


The Suitcases

by littlelemoncakes



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, younger woman/older man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 03:54:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3921955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelemoncakes/pseuds/littlelemoncakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em> Warmth was radiating from his body, and Sansa soon found herself resting against him, her head sat comfortably on his shoulder, her arms circling his neck. She felt a little slow, perhaps tipsy. Maybe he was right about drinking the wine too fast. Of course he was right, but Sansa couldn’t help feel warm, comfortable and protected in his arms. She heard his voice, a barely audible whisper into her ear.</em>
</p>
<p> <em>“You really do look wonderful, Sansa. You look so beautiful.” <em></em></em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. starting new with past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cut me from the dangling tree  
> if i could, i'd cut myself free  
> im asking for trust  
> and perhaps a favour  
> please mother, do not lie  
> do not hurt my dear savour

Sansa awoke and her eyelids fluttered open from an abrupt tannoy announcement.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, if you buckle up your belts, place personal items into your hand luggage. We shall be descending into London City Airport and we will be on the ground in ten to fifteen minutes, Thank you”.

She did as was said, placing her half read book into her bag and stuffing her phone and earphones into a pocket. A woman who was very timid, sat beside her. She had a small child wrapped in a soft blanket in her arms, the child cried a little bit before, but soon fell asleep. “I’m sorry about Sam, He doesn’t like flying too much” She said quietly, her eyes sidled to Sansa’s face, who smiled at her. “No, not at all! He was an angel, weren’t you?” Sansa cooed at the baby who was suddenly fascinated by her, letting out happy gurgles. The woman smiled in a thankful manner, and began humming quietly to her child. A man a couple of rows in front of Sansa on the opposite aisle, turned his head back slightly. As though listening to her, but soon faced the front again. Sansa didn’t notice. She was looking forward to getting home to her new flat. She had gotten the plane from Edinburgh, near to where she used to live with her family. Her sister made out that she was glad Sansa was leaving until they got to the airport, She grabbed her sobbing. “I didn’t think you’d actually leave! I’m going to miss you so much!” Sansa hugged her, reassuring her she’d come up at holidays and Arya was welcome to stay when she liked, as long at it wasn’t a runaway hideout, she told her jokingly although their Mother looked at Arya with a stern look. She picked up her youngest sibling Rickon, swinging him while he gleefully squealed, and he attacked her cheeks with sloppy kisses. She hugged her other brother Bran tightly, before tucking money in his shirt pocket. “Buy some water balloons and get these nutcases for me?” She whispered and he grinned at her. She took a step back from her family, tearing up slightly. “Eh? Where do you think your going?” Her father asked before grabbing her and pulling her into a rib-cracking hug. “Dad please” she wheezed. He let her go, tears filling his eyes. “You’ll always be my Princess” He told her, holding her hand. “Oh Ned, she’s a woman now, She’s no princess!” Her Mother laughed, kissing Sansa’s cheeks.                                                                                                     She smiled to herself, as her mind moved to her family rather than her new flat. She was definitely going to miss them, but she was almost twenty-one. She wanted to go somewhere new, and live life differently for a while. She wasn’t a child anymore. She wasn’t a princess anymore.

The plane touched ground and everyone got off the plane, making their way to the bag collection. Standing waiting for the luggage line to start bring out everyone’s suitcases. She turned off airplane mode and received a couple of texts from her older brother Robb.

**12:06** \- “ _Hey Kiddo, Good Luck in the big bad world, have fun, I’ll be home in the holidays so hopefully see you then, will you have a londoner accent? innit, ahaha love you xx_ ”

**12:21** \- “ _Hey again, Jon says good luck too, he says that his one word of advice is don’t drink mixed drinks, or anything with a skull on the bottle, or anything that smells like chilli, he says scrap everything he said before, just don’t drink - excessively, he says love you and be safe xx_ ”

She was about you reply before a dark figure almost slithered in front of her and through the crowd of people. He carried an anonymous aura and sense of confidence which caught Sansa’s attention but she lost sight of him as soon as she noticed. She quickly forgot about the man and replied to Robb, sending her thanks and love to them both, as well as a couple of laughing emoji faces.

The line started to flow with bags, as people and children scurried about them eyeing bags, looking for their own like birds with bread. Sansa soon spotted her suitcase, she slid past the layer of people surrounding the moving line of luggage, clutching her bag as she popped the wheels and handle, letting the case glide along behind her. The case felt the tiniest bit lighter than before but Sansa wasn’t worried, it was only the remainder of her stuff from home anyway, clothes, underwear plus precious keepsakes and pictures from friends and family, but she forgot about the thought almost instantly. When she finally got out of the airport, she flagged a taxi and slid in, reciting the same of the street she now lived on like she had done a million times over in her head. Her apartment was a good twenty-five minutes away, but she just wanted to get home, she would figure out the underground another day. Finally at her street, Sansa smiled at the driver and played her fair. She pulled her suitcase out and walked along the street as the taxi drove away. It was around 1 o'clock and the sun decided to warm up London's sky. Sansa smiled to herself, thinking of the new adventure she was about to embark on. She eventually came to her apartment, she lived alone and it was all hers. When she turned eighteen, she told her family all she wanted was to live in London and of course her Dad, being the founder of the international company Starks Metal Refinery, He bought her an apartment in London, of course the seller was one of many of Eddard's good friends and therefore getting a good deal. It had two bedrooms upstairs, two bathrooms, a living room that joint with the kitchen. She entered the key into a jet black door and opened it, Jon and Robb had came up with her weeks before to help her get the place set up. She ran upstairs to her bedroom, setting her suitcase on the bed to unpack to rest of her things. She unzipped the case and flipped it open and her stomach dropped.

_This wasn't her suitcase._

It was filled with neatly folded shirts and trousers, a couple of belts and blazers. There was almost no colour, it was all black, white and the shades in between. The only colour was of the underwear which were dark greens but mostly black too. The case had a strong scent of expensive cologne, that honestly smelt rather good but Sansa ignored that. She began looking through the - guessing it was a man's - case, looking for any sort of address, name or anything. Sansa stumbled upon a small leather book, hardly bigger than a wallet. It was filled with pictures. Pictures of a small boy on a man's shoulders, pictures of the same man and his bride, pictures of the same little boy but a little older sitting with two young girls and a boy, to which Sansa could swear she recognise, but the picture was old and blurry. The rest of the pictures were the same quality, and were of the same boy and one of the girls in a picture before. The second last picture was of a mockingbird, it was bent inside of its picture pocket and Sansa could see writing on the other side so she pulled the picture out from the pocket and turned it over.

_If found, please phone this number. - Petyr Baelish_

 A small handwritten note with a number from a man named Petyr Baelish. She dialled the number into her phone and put it to her ear, listening to it ring. She studied to see if she could recognise the handwriting but nothing came to her. She set the picture of the mockingbird down next to her and flipped to see the last picture in the little book, the phone still ringing. Her heart stopped and flew into her throat, her stomach twisted so tightly she felt sick, she tried to swallow but her throat remained paralysed. This picture was much better quality than any of the others. It was the girl from earlier photographs, but it was her. The girl in the photograph looked exactly like Sansa, she had her bright eyes, her soft cheek bones, the way her hair sat was the same, her body build was almost identical, the only difference was that this girl's hair was a shade or two darker than hers and then it hit her.

_Its my mum, all the pictures are of my Mother, and the one with four of them. It was her Mother, her Aunt Lysa, her Uncle Edmure and this mysterious boy._

A low voice answered the phone "Hello" and Sansa remained silent, staring at the picture. "Hello?" The voice uttered again and Sansa looks up from the picture.

"What the fuck is going on?".

"Cat?" He man spoke in hardly a whisper.

"No, I'm not Catelyn Stark, I'm Sansa Stark, her daughter. It appears I have picked up your case by accident, I believe you may have mine." Sansa snapped down the phone.

The man remained quiet for hardly second.

"I've just opened my suitcase and yes, It appears to be yours."

"Ok great, could you now please explain why you- you fucking creep, have pictures of my Mother?" Sansa said angrily.

"Has your Mother never mentioned me, Sansa?" Sansa went from feeling angry to suddenly very intimidated. It was like the moment he said her name, the second it rolled off the man's tongue, he became in charge of the conversation, he became dominant in the question.

"No" Sansa simply answered and she heard a soft laugh from down the line.

"Sweetling, take out the fifth picture from the book and read the back" The voice commanded her to do, the nickname softening the sudden demand. Sansa kept silent but flipped the book and reached a picture of the boy giving her Mum a piggyback. It had writing on the back which said.

_Petyr, I'm going to miss you loads, you've been my best friend for years on end, never stop making me smile, I love you loads xx_

It had a tiny scribble at the bottom.

_My brother from another mother! ..and father, still love you forever - Cat x_

Even if there were no name, Sansa recognised the handwriting of her Mother.

Sansa hung up. She felt sick, This man was her "brother from another mother" and yet her Mum had never even mentioned his name once. Sansa was supposed to be being in her future, not dwelling on others past.

She text the number she had just called.

**13:34** \- " _Come to mine, bring my case, I don't know who you are but we need to talk_ ".

Sansa sent her address no more than a second later, unsure of what she was doing was right or wrong.

**13:37** \- " _Yes, I believe we do._   _I'll be over in five minutes - Petyr_ ".

 


	2. happiness is the illusion of money

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i will tell you what to do  
> i will tell you what to say  
> i will create havoc among your mind  
> and you will sit and tell me 'okay'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really did want to write more within this chapter but I wanted to upload something and sleep more, thank you!

Sansa paced in her bedroom, no longer angry, although as she texted her family to tell them she'd arrived at her apartment safely, she felt like adding to the text to her Mum - "Also, who the fuck is _Petyr Baelish_?". But resisted, it wasn't so much a temptation but rather a burning question in her mind.

_Was it a coincidence? Maybe he took my bag intentionally, knowing it was me._

Sansa shook the ridiculous thoughts from her head. It didn't matter anyway, he was just a guy from her Mum's past, it wasn't a big deal. She looked in the mirror, brushing her hair into place and wiping smudges away from her eyes. Sansa had noticed that behind the picture of the mockingbird in the man's book, there was a business card. It was matte black with a smooth silver mockingbird silhouette and silver writing that said "The Mockingbird". It must be a business of some kind, Sansa had wondered to herself, perhaps a fancy restaurant she continued in her head. She decided that maybe she could perhaps grab an opportunity, she didn't have a job yet and she was hoping to get just a part time job perhaps, just to get some income to support her new life. She decided to for a professional and mature look. She was looking for her favourite silken blue sheath dress but cursing as she remembered it was packed in her suitcase. Her other outfits seemed almost childish until she spotted her full body pencil dress, although it was completely black, and she was worried she'd give the wrong impression but scoffed as soon as she saw his suitcases filled with mere shades. She quickly wiggled into her tight dress, which sat a few inches above the knee, the sleeves stopped just after the elbow. The dress slipped around her shoulders and met just under her collarbone. She applied red lipstick which harmonized with her blazing hair, which fell around her shoulders loosely with her natural kinks and waves.

_I would so many free drinks in this._

Sansa thought to herself, laughing. She heard a knock at the door and suddenly of her confidence drained from her. She wasn't scared but the way he had flipped the conversation in seconds over the phone had definitely taken Sansa by surprise. Her heart thundered inside her throat as she saw a dark figure in the bubbled glass in her door. She unlocked the door and a soft breeze of that excellent aftershave that had warmed into her bedroom flew in and greeted her. A slim but lean man smiled at her, and he was maybe only a couple inches taller than her. His hair was parted to the left and swept to the side very smoothly and neatly, it was a darkened brown colour that were peppered with flecks of silvers. The brown hair dissolved into silver at the front of his ears, and his age looked like it was convincing the silver to make its way up the side of his head, but there wasn't much gray happening apart from that. He looks around his early 40s. His face was definitely handsome in its age. It was lightly scored with expression lines, but his eyes were unmoving. They were a green-gray that seemed to study Sansa with fascination, and Sansa suddenly felt very inappropriate in her tight black dress. But his smiled _seemed_ genuine although it did not reach his eyes. He was wearing a simple light grey shirt with the sleeves rolled up the forearm, with a skinny black tie, to which had a small mockingbird embroidered of the bottom of it. He wore dark slim jeans, maintaining a casual yet work associated look, making Sansa feel considerably over dressed which was ironic since Sansa felt completely exposed under his gaze.

"Mr Baelish?" She simply questioned, refusing to let herself be stripped of confidence by a stranger.

"Miss Stark." He nodded and stated she name as though it were a fact rather than a greeting.

"Oh, just call me Sansa" she replied, gesturing he may come in, although she remembers the way her name parted from his lips like a sudden control, manipulating her to do as he wishes like a wind-up toy. He smirked at her, wheeling her suitcase behind him.

"And you just call me Petyr" his smirk grew as he mimicked her words.

Before she could reply, he merely sighed. His grip leaving the suitcase to stand closer to Sansa, merely a couple of inches away from her. His minty breath rippled over her cheeks, blushing it slightly as it did so.

"I can see why you got such a fright from that photograph, Sansa." He almost purred, and there it was. Her name, said like silk from his smile yet she felt like she was being pulled around on searing strings. So she remained quiet as his eyes burned into her skin, studying every detail.

"You look so much like her." He said smiling, which reached his eyes for once making them look like they are glowing suddenly.

Sansa took a step back, staring at him.

"Are you going to explain yourself then?" Sansa told him, blatantly ignoring his last comments.

"But you- you have Stark in you, you're not all a pretty face, Sansa" he gazed at her for a second before putting on a mask of a hard face, like Sansa was attempting to do. His hands slipped into his pockets as he leant against the wall, a sudden ooze of anonymous aura and confidence came from his exterior, which got Sansa's déjà vu going.

"Define ‘explain yourself?’" he asked.

“Explain who you are? I mean, you're very much associated with my Mother in a way. But why has she never mentioned you? She seemed to emphasised how much she cared for you in the note of the back of the photograph, perhaps there's a reason she has never mentioned you? Perhaps something happened and she never mentioned you again and you knew about me and intentionally took my suitcase at the airport so you could, I don’t know, get revenge? Have a get together? Explain yourself?" Sansa said, not angrily, in fact almost casually.

Petyr removed his hands from his pockets, holding them up.

"That's a well thought out theory sweetling, but I can promise to you that I didn't take your bag intentionally, I was very much unknowing who you were, although I agree it seems very coincidental." The smirk faded as his hands fell down slowly to his sides, making sure his point was serious. "However, you seem to be getting somewhere about your first half, coincidentally?" His smirk returned as did his hands to his pockets. His head tipped to the side slightly, and a genuine smile crawled over his smirk.

"How about we go for a drink? We discuss over that?" He offered.

Sansa did admit to herself that it was a stunning day, plus she needed a strong drink.

"You certainly seemed dress for drinks, I do hope I'm not interrupting any plans with any friends?" He asked, as though his mind was looking through her thoughts like a filing cabinet.

"Uh, actually yeah, why don't we? And no, I don't have any plans. I just moved here so I'm just getting my grip around London" Sansa decided, being mature and adultlike, almost catching herself smiling back at him.

“Great, shall we go now, while the weather is good?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be just a second, I need to go grab some things” Sansa slipped upstairs, grabbing a black pair of flats. Heels seemed too out there for something as casual as a drink and chat. She collected her purse, phone and his photograph book, and stuffed them into a small, red handbag which sat comfortably on her shoulder.

_Why the hell are you going to have drinks with a stranger, a closely associated stranger._

He watched she was she walked downstairs, every step was careful and elegant, like the way a cat walks. Her bright but softening eyes caught his, which were vivid and steel like for a slow moment before she looked away, because again she felt as though she was an exhibit when he looked at her like that. His genuine smile made his eyes glow, perhaps with a sense of humanity which seems to dissolve in some moments, as though he were two different people. One being a mask of stone and the other a man that seemed soft, both of them looked very similar.

“I know some great places, if you’d like to go by my recommendation?” Petyr offered, to which Sansa nodded slightly, thinking about it as they walked down the street together.

“The Mockingbird?” She asked, watching him from the side.

“Ah you saw my business card?”

“Yeah, is it a fancy restaurant?”

Petyr glanced at her with a slight smile.

“Some may call it so, but it’s not really the kind of place for a casual drink”

Sansa didn’t really understand why a boss couldn’t have a casual drink in his own restaurant, perhaps it was going bankrupt or something, so Sansa didn’t want to ask anymore.

“Where to then?”

Petyr smiled but did not look at her. He held his hand out to an oncoming taxi, and they both climbed in.

“To Westerling Bar, please?” He asked the driver to which nodded and started to turn around

“Westerling?” Sansa blurted out in shock.

_He is not bankrupt._

This place was very expensive, it was the riches of London who came here, not young girls that were much too poor to be here.

“I thought why not drink the gold if it’s there?” He replied, in an almost quirky manner.

“Mr Baelish, I’m sorry to have perhaps ruined this outing but I couldn’t afford a simple cider in that place” Sansa divulged, feeling uncomfortable and out of place.

“Please call me Petyr, and I should hope you don’t have the wads of cash, at your young age. I’d be asking for your secret on how you did it. But I do have the money, and I would like to buy you a couple of drinks tonight.” Petyr smiled, perhaps in a sweet way but it felt like almost arrogant.

“Plus, I have ties with the owner, I pretty much get anything and everything on the house” Petyr laughed, causing Sansa to smile.

“You had to include how rich you are though, didn’t you?” Sansa smirked.

“Of course, money only gets you so far though my sweetling”.

“How far?”

“As far as you are convinced you're happy, when you’re really not.” He answered bluntly.

_He’s not happy_

 

She thought

**  
** _I can smell the blood from his genuine smiles, dripping from his scorn-cracked face._


	3. liquid gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> past, present, future.  
> my past remembers your face  
> my present thinks of your grace  
> and my future determines your place  
> which is here  
> with me  
> forever

The taxi stopped outside The Westerling. It had a vintage style exterior, stone and slate birch outing, around the windows and doorways. The edges of the windows had lights which illuminated the streets around it during the night. The doorway had a small red carpet going in, to which Petyr opened the door for her. Sansa gasped as she walked in, the roof of the room was clear glass, so clean it seemed like there was nothing there. The sky looked so blue, trees hung over the glass, created a dappled light that shone on Sansa, making the places on her that the sun touched glow, especially her hair. The red carpet continued into the bar, which complemented the dark rococo styled furniture - as well as matching Sansa, but she was no piece of furniture. She definitely caught eyes as she walked in, as stunning as ever. Petyr walked in behind her, glancing at her curves, and how she gasped at her classy surroundings.

"Drink?" He asked, finally catching her attention.

"Uh- Oh yes! Coke and rum please" she asked smiling. Petyr nodded and smirked at her awe.

He walked up to the bar, his hands in his pockets again.

A bartender came to him and smiled.

"Ah Mr Baelish! Francis isn't here today, isn't feeling too well, but he'll be glad you came, I shall put your order on his bill." Petyr waved the boy's words away, shaking his head.

"No, no, I haven't seen Frank in a while, I'll take my bill, Alfred. He's still an appreciated customer of mine. Do tell him I hope he feels better, tell him the girls miss him".

"Oh please, he always insists he pays for you, please let me give you discount at least, sir?"

"Ha, typical Frank, teaching his team to make sure I'm treated like a king in here. He'll regret it one day, when I take out his shelves, one by one. Anyway, I'll have a coke and rum and my usual, Al."

The boy laughed and poured the requested drinks.

"No ice?"

"The usual, Alfred."

"Of course."

Alfred passed the Coke and the iceless whiskey to Petyr.

"A penny please."

Petyr let out a short laugh, handing over a ten pound note.

"Keep the change, buy him a get well card for me?" Petyr said, picking up his drinks and walking back towards Sansa.

They made their way towards a table which was drowned in sunlight, but not enough to blind them. Sansa stroked the detailed stitching of the seating before sitting down, sighing at the comfort and luxury.

"Thank you, Mr Bael- Petyr, this place is is amazing." Sansa whispered as though they would chuck her out for seeming so common.

"Sansa, they aren't going to remove you from the premises for stating a positive opinion." He purred, his words matching her thoughts exactly.

"So.." Sansa stated, pulling out Petyr's book.

"Shall we?"

"Yes, I guess we shall." Petyr said, his eyes hardening slightly at the sight of his book, taking it into his hands.

He flipped to the picture of himself, Sansa's Aunt, Uncle and Mother.

"My Mother died when I was very young, not even a year old I think. My Dad was good man, he tried his damnedest to sustain our tiny family. He was the gardener for the Tully's, he would take me since he couldn't afford to take me to school and get to the Tully's. Soon enough, you're Grandfather noticed that my father was struggling, so he offered to take me to school with his children to help out. My father was very grateful but stress had woven itself deep into my father, he didn't care for himself and he died of cardiovascular disease." Petyr's face was hard like stone, refusing to succumb to emotion. His eyes flitted to the glass of whiskey and back to Sansa, hard like steel.

"I'm very sorry to hear that.. Petyr." Sansa said yet she heard her Mother, her hand flew over her mouth in surprise of how much she actually sounded like her. Petyr watched her, smiling ever so slightly.

"You heard her there?" He simply said, and Sansa let out a bewildered nod.

"That was weird.. Please continue"

"I had no family, that was known of anyway, so Hoster adopted me into the family. I was very thankful although Edmure always made sure to remind me who I was, calling me nicknames like Littlefinger because I was a short boy and I used to live in a town off the coast called The Fingers, he was my friend in some sort but I guess the taunting never really made me feel like family with them. I tended to play with Lysa and your Mother, Catelyn. I guess I was their 'plaything' as they would practice kissing on me for the day a 'gallant knight' came along."

Petyr downed his whiskey, his breath reaching Sansa, it smelt strong and almost sweet. Alfred came along, smiling at Sansa, giving Petyr another whiskey.

"But, somehow I fell in love with a girl who would kiss me, and as she got older she practice lots of things on me, so strange that would happen. I was young and I really thought she loved me." his voice was coarse with sarcasm.

"Who?"

"Your Mother." Petyr looked at her, his eyes boring into hers. Sansa didn't know what to say, her Mum didn't strike her that the experimental kind of girl, never mind even the kind of one to think about it.

"I told her once that I loved her when we were at a party, she was very drunk and she grabbed me and said 'I want you, Brandon'. My teenage self was very hurt so I drank my weight in alcohol and that was the night I lost my virginity to a girl with red hair. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this stuff.”

"A story is a story, just tell me what happened.. Was it my Mum?" Sansa asked, finding herself become very interested.

"I couldn't tell you, I convinced my younger self it was Catelyn but I don't think I'll ever know, plus it was terrible… terrible sex, I mean.. and very blurry. Anyway, I remember what she said about Brandon. So I decided to leave, I needed to get away from Catelyn and start new, so I was going to move to the south, and that's when your Mother wrote the note on the back of this picture." Petyr said holding it up, flipping it continuously.

"We were all only 17, but Brandon had asked Catelyn to the last school dance, and then he promised he was going to marry her, she had promised since we were children we would go to the last dance together, so I told him I was willing to fight for Catelyn. He was much taller and more muscular unlike me but I was young and naïve, I didn't care. He beat me up to a bleeding, bruised pulp, I was lying on the ground, coughing up the blood which was running from my broken nose, down my throat, he had a broken glass bottle and I think he planned to finish me off as he slashed my chest from the collarbone to my navel.”

“What?” Sansa blurted, and Petyr smiled, yet it was the smile that did not meet his eyes.

“Not to worry, Sweetling, But I probably would have died if Catelyn hadn't begged for my life, saying I was like a brother to her. I was sent away by Hoster for trying to make Catelyn choose and ruin her relationship. Once I regained health, I went south right there and then, forgetting about your Mother, the last dance, everything.”

Sansa was speechless, but the air seemed even more empty without his voice, she felt like he had to keep talking for her to fully understand what had happened.

 

_He might be lying._

 

A tiny voice whispered from the back of Sansa’s mind.

‘No, there was no way he was lying, I don’t know this guy, he definitely seems mischievous and hard to read in some times but, through his solemn stone exterior there was emotion. Somewhere’ Sansa thought to herself.

“So, what happened after that?” Sansa asked.

Petyr looked up, his exterior and gaze felt colder than ever, but not hateful.

“I worked my way up to where I am now, owning several businesses across Britain. But I didn’t really hear much about your Mother, except that Brandon had died in a drunken fight, and she then got with your Father.”

Sansa sipped at her coke, the rum wasn’t strong but she liked the warmth that grew in stomach as it flowed down.

There was a silence that grew even more silent by the second, as though there was no muttering from other people in the bar, no clinking of glasses. It felt like it was just Sansa and Petyr in a room alone. Sansa’s eyes flickered from her drink to see his face, his eyes were glued on to her. Studying her like it was the first time he had seen her, she watched his eyes follow every strand of hair, every dip and curve of her face. She watched him with a lump growing in her throat, restricting her breathing, her face feeling hot as though his eyes had set her on fire. She drank her coke to cool herself down and to wash away the lump in her throat, unable to look away from his controlling gaze.

It was until was a loud rattle as the straw sucked at the ice cubes of the empty glass. It was like someone had unmuted her surroundings as the muttering, laughing and clinking of glasses flooded her ears, along with his voice.

“Another?” He asked. Her eyes finally broke from his but only for a second before going back to reply.

“Yes, just a water please.” Sansa almost croaked.

He nodded, turning towards the bar. As he did, Sansa scrambled in her bag finding a compact mirror and checking her reflection. Her cheeks did carry a tint of pink but Sansa was sure that her face was melting at one point.

His second whiskey still sat on their table but he came back with a glass of ice cold water and a glass of whiskey.

“Your throat sounded quite dry, I thought you might like a smooth whiskey.” Petyr offered, placing the glasses down in front of her.

“Oh, Thank you for your concern but honestly I was taken aback by what you told me.” Sansa said, truthfully actually. This man may still be sour about what happened with her Mother, although he didn’t really seem so but the things her Mother had done to him were pretty selfish. He didn't reply but acknowledged her bewilderment about what he had said.

Sansa picked up the glass of whiskey, smelling it’s strong scent.

“Have a sip” He said, more like a command rather than a option.

She sipped at the whiskey, it had a slight wood taste, which had a twist of sweetness but it’s alcoholic fumes exited her nostrils quickly and caught her throat, causing her to splutter for a second, regaining her breath again.

“Not your thing?”

Sansa took several gulps of water before responding.

“I wouldn’t say so, It has a strange taste but it’s more overpoweringly alcoholic, why do people drink so much of it?”

“I guess it gives most people courage.”

Sansa looked down at her glass of whiskey and how the sun shone through it, making it look like liquid gold. She looked up at his face, which mirrored her movements.

“Does it give you courage?” she whispered. Sansa having a smirk on her face instead of Petyr for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry its been too long, i hoped to further the chapter but im struggling on where to take this, open to all guidance and advice :)


	4. twisted and fantastic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't be broken my dear  
> I can't be hurt my love  
> cut me and I bleed but I do not cry  
> but kiss me and my heart will cut me from the inside

Courage. Courage is defending what’s yours. Courage is standing up for what you believe in. Courage is facing reality. Petyr had courage once, and it left him bloody, broken and almost dead. Petyr was a risk-taker but to him that was common sense. He didn’t need courage, or bravery. He didn’t need any of it. Nothing “sparked his courage”, or “inspired his bravery”. He had wit and confidence, he always had wit and confidence. He was confident in his intelligence, and his intelligence made him confident. Why did he need courage if he knew the many ways something would play out, and he knew exactly what pawn to move in response.

“It does not give me courage, no.” He replied, watching her lips curve in attempt to look intimidating.

“Why do you drink then?” Sansa asked, her smirk falling as quickly as it had risen.

“Because I have the money too.” he replied, almost painfully bluntly. Sansa eyed up her whiskey, slightly annoyed.

“So you just do it because you can?” She said, a slight sneer could be heard.

He seemed so uncaring. Like he were made of never-melting ice and his brow was maintaining a slightly stern look which only really disappeared when he smiled.

“Yes.” He simply stated, like it was normal.

“So, you buy me drinks, take me out to The Westerling because you can? Not because it seems like a nice thing to do?” Sansa asked, letting her brow mirror his.

Petyr tipped his head slightly, forever studying her features.

“I need a cigarette, come outside with me?” Petyr asked, standing up from his seat

“Are you just smoking ‘because you can’?”

“Sansa.” He said not scornfully but it quietened her.

She stood up, hitching down her dress before walking next to him to the door. He placed the cigarette in his mouth, and nodded towards Alfred as he opened the door for Sansa and then stepping outside after her.

The sunshine was beginning to dull as it was being to reach three o’clock, but it was still radiating heat. Petyr covered his cigarette from any breeze and lit up, inhaling deeply before letting out a slow breath of smoke, almost sighing as he did so.

“I’d offer you one but I don’t want you to smoke, I don’t want to set a bad example.” Petyr said cooly, his other hand slipping into his pocket.

“I’m old enough to smoke.”

“Yes, but it’s a terrible thing.”

“But you're doing it..?” Sansa questioned, stopping slightly letting Petyr continue to walk in front of her. He turned around to face her from a couple of feet away.

“Yes, but I’m a terrible person.” He smiled at her, letting the ash fall from his cigarette.

Sansa remained silent, watching the smoke drift from his lips.

He sat down on bench, watching the trees remain still and silent. Sansa sat down beside him, watching his eyes study his surrounding. They were hard but there was something about how the sunshine hit them, making them glow a bright green. It made them more human than the mask that covered them. He closed his eyes, tipping his head back and opening his mouth just a little bit, letting smoke ebb into the air.

It felt like a long moment had passed before he opened his eyes, but let his head remain tipped back, his eyes reflected the lack of clouds in the sky.

“I do care, y’know.” He finally said.

“What I told you, about your Mother and my childhood.. I don’t often tell people that stuff. I rarely tell anyone anything. I pretend to be friends with people, but honestly I wouldn’t care if they dropped dead tomorrow and they have this mutual feeling.” Petyr brought his head forward again.

“I don’t need other people to care for me, I don’t need to care for other people. I have only ever truly cared for one person in my life and they never really cared for me. And I don’t mean loved, I mean I cared if she was happy or sad, I cared about her. I got hurt physically and emotionally because that incident, so I became increasingly selfish. Because that’s how the world works, Sansa.”

“I could tell it had been a while since you had genuinely smiled. So, what are you getting from this? From being here with me?” Sansa replied, letting her eyes follow his jawline to his silvery hair in front of his ear.

“I said I cared, I didn’t buy you drinks because I can, I don’t smoke because I can. I used to think perhaps the smoking would kill me from inside out, but I felt the same. I have three cigarettes left in the packet in my pocket. They will be my last cigarettes ever, because you have to truly care about yourself to truly care about someone else. I’m selfish in the way that use others for my own self destruction.” Petyr said with another smile. Sansa didn’t understand how he had the ability to smile when talking about himself in such a way.

“You’re not friends with people because you believe that if you are of a higher power than others, they will respect you and you won’t need your own respect if you have everything you’ve ever wanted.” Sansa stated, watched Petyr smile wider.

“Yes. And I’m using you selfishly in the way that, If I care about you, then I will care for myself.”

“I’m the easiest person to care about because I look like her but I’m not her”

“Yes.”

“What if I refuse, maybe I don’t want to help a man I’ve just met who is in love with my Mum.”

Petyr shook his head.

“Then I won’t stop you, Because I’m not asking, I’m selfish and rich remember? And I’m not in love with Catelyn.” He said, poison flickered from his tongue as he said her name.

Time had passed before Sansa opened her mouth.

“I care about you.”

“Why? We just met?”

“Because you returned my luggage, and then you took me out to drinks because it’s kind gesture, and I appreciate it. I hope you're glad you met me, because you would be dead in a month.” She stated as a fact.

“But I’m not Catelyn.”

“I know.”

Silence crept upon them.

Petyr threw his cigarette on the ground and squished into the pavement with his foot. Sansa’s hand reached and took out his cigarette packet, and threw them in the bin.

Petyr’s eyebrows knotted for a second before looking at Sansa smirking.

They remained silent until they said their goodbyes to Alfred and headed to a taxi. As the new world of London passed at a speed, Sansa suddenly felt so small. She had found her way into the cracks of Petyr Baelish. She didn’t hold power over him, but she didn’t feel intimidated by him for once. But they way his eyes pierced into her skin suddenly reminded her who she was, and what exactly she might have just let herself into. But she meant it when she said that she cared for him, although he seemed untrustworthy, sly and intimidating. The things that people tend not to care for.

They arrived back at Sansa’s apartment around four in the afternoon.

“I just get my case and leave.”

“Not yet.” Sansa called back to him.

“Sansa, I’ve got places to be.”

“Please.” She said, turning around to face him.

Petyr stared at her, a strange look in his eyes, almost wild.

“Just give me your lighter.”

Petyr stared at her a moment before reaching into his pocket for his lighter and giving it to her.

She gestured him to follow her.

She had a small, ugly patio at the back of her apartment that she had attempted to spruce up with plants and pots.

She pulled out a small bottle of vodka that Alfred had given her and Petyr’s photograph book.

She handed him the lighter, staring at him.

“Drown it.” He simply said.

Sansa opened the vodka, pouring in all over the book, letting it drench every page and photograph until the bottle was empty and the book sat in a small puddle of the concrete. She pulled the photograph with the note of the back, and handed it to Petyr. He looked at the picture for a moment, smiling before putting the corner of it to the lighter’s flame. He watched the picture blacken and curl, their faces and Cat’s words turning to flame before letting it drop onto the book which was suddenly engulfed in flames. The cracking of the plastic and faces in the hot flame. Sansa felt Petyr’s hand on the small of her back as they watched memories burn in front of their eyes, she felt her cheeks begin to redden, but she convinced herself it was from the fire. Sansa was mesmerized by the flickering flame for what felt like an hour before hearing a whisper in her ear.

“I need to go.”

________________________________________________________________________

**  
  
**

_**12:47am** \- S - “Hey, can I ask where you went? why you had to leave so suddenly?”_

_**12:53am** \- P - “I was just sorting out stuff to do with work, not very interesting.”_

_**12:54am** \- S - “The Mockingbird?”_

_**12:57am** \- P - “Yes, The Mockingbird.”_

_**01:01am** \-  S - “I can’t seem to find a website, how come?”_

_**01:03am** \- P - “It’s not that kind of business..”_

_**01:03am** \- S - “I thought it was a restaurant? Also, I’m looking for a job, could I have one in whatever The Mockingbird is.”_

_**01:06am** \- P - “We can discuss this another time, Sansa.”_

_**01:07am** \- S - “Why not now?”_

_**01:09am** \- S - “Petyr?”_

_**01:10am** \- S - “petyrpetyrpertrpetyrpeeetyrrr”_

_**01:12am** \- S - “baelishbaelishbaelish”_

_**01:15am** \- P - One missed call from Sansa Stark._

_**01:19am** \- S - “I know you’re awake.”_

_**01:20am** \- P -“That would be because you just phoned me.”_

_**01:20am** \- S - “Aha!”_

Sansa pressed her phone to her ear for the second time, listening to the ring. Finally the ringing stopped and a voice came through instead.

“Yes?”

“Hello.” Sansa responded, unsure if he sounded annoyed or not.

“Do you need something?”

“I want you to tell me about The Mockingbird.”

“I said need, not want.” His voice sounded a little less impatient than before, yet still firm.

“Please? Surely there’s something you want?”

There was a moment of silence before he replied.

“It’s a brothel, Sansa.”

Sansa couldn’t speak for a moment.

_A brothel?!_

“I realise why you didn’t want to talk about employment.” She finally said.

“So..”

“So what?”

“I’m waiting to hear how I’m a disgusting self-interested man that views women as objects.”

Sansa paused.

“Is that how you view you and your.. establishment?”

“No.”

“So how do you view it then?”

“Well, I care for the girls. They can leave whenever they wish, they get payed generously by their customers and I don’t go looking for these women, they come to me for the job.”

Sansa nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see her, although hearing his voice so close to her gave her the feeling that happened when he did watch her.

“The man who runs The Westerling died tonight.” Petyr ignored the fact she didn’t reply.

“He was a customer of The Mockingbird, secretly of course. His wife never knew.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.. Have you met his wife?”

“Yes, several times.”

“How can you look her in the eye, knowing that her wife was sleeping with prostitutes?” Sansa asked almost curious.

“Because she secretly came to the brothel too, she likes the boys at The Mockingbird” Sansa heard him chuckle slightly on the other end of the line.

“You’re caught in a twisted and fantastic world.” Sansa said, laughing a little.

“You’ve had a taste of it, did you enjoy it?”

“Yes, very much.”

“Want more?”

Sansa laughed down the phone, her head spinning slightly.

“No.” She said.

“I _need_ more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thank you for all your wonderful comments, I love you all.
> 
> \- I didn't want to make Petyr seem weak but I wanted to get across that he is trying to escape from 'things' and he uses his never-ending money to do so.


	5. my protege

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> follow or be followed  
> they said wisely  
> to follow is the wanting  
> to be followed is the knowing  
> which is which  
> they whispered  
> I do not know

It had been a couple of days since the phone call, But Sansa and Petyr tended to text each other quite frequently. They texted more at night, when Petyr wasn’t working. They texted about stupid things like their favourite television shows, films and they would recommend each other music. Sansa enjoyed playing 20 questions with him.

_**09:10pm** \- S - “Favourite Colour?”_

_**09:11pm** \- P - “Grey.”_

_**09:11pm** \- S - “Booooring :P”_

_**09:12pm** \- P - “Or a kind of autumn auburn.”_

_**09:13pm** \- S - “That’s better, Ok - your turn”_

_**09:15pm** \- P - “My suitcase was pretty messy, Did you look at anything apart from the book?”_

_**09:15pm** \- S - “No? Where hiding secrets in there?”_

_**09:16pm** \- P - “I couldn’t hide them all in there.. It just seem some items were unfolded.”_

_**09:16pm** \- S - “This question is boring.”_

_**09:16pm** \- S - “In fact, yeah, I was right a good look at those big panties you got in there.”_

_**09:17pm** \- P - “I knew it, the frilly ones?”_

_**09:18pm** \- S - “Yeah, real hot.”_

_**09:19pm** \- P - “My favourite pair, They’re comfy.”_

_**09:20pm** \- S - “Ahahahaha.. Need to borrow them at some point! :P”_

Sansa would screenshot some of the things he said and laugh to herself. Sometimes when they texted he wouldn’t be funny and warm, he would seem cold and uninterested. She wished he would stop replying if he was in that mood, but he wouldn’t and neither would she, even when she was made feel so small by his words.

She had gone shopping, bought the necessities rather than things she wanted, she had been saving plus what her family had given her to start off in London but she’d have to find a job eventually.

Sansa was sprawled out on her couch flicking through the television programmes, none of which seeming to interest her. It was a hot afternoon in London again, the heat was getting to Sansa as her eyelids started to droop and her breathing slowed. She was almost asleep until several sharp knocks came from her front door. Sansa stumbled from her couch to the front door, opening it a little bit to see who it was. But no-one was there, She opened the door wider looking around, before tripping slightly on a black box that sat on her step. She picked it up, curious of its contents. She walked out her apartment to see if the person that dropped it off was still around. Not seeing anyone, she retreated back inside. She placed the box on her couch and opened it to find a white package and a red envelope on top with her name written on it. She ripped open the envelope and pulled out the letter.

_Sansa,_

__

_Tonight is Francis’ funeral and I wish for you to attend with me. Frank was a happy man, he loved his money, his alcohol and his whores. He wasn’t the kind of man to mourn, so the arranged funeral we shall be present at is not your usual funeral. We will be attending a Masquerade Ball in memory of Francis, held by his family, The Edmynes. The package withholds your outfit for this evening, I shall pick you up at 18:00. Be ready to go._

__

_A funeral, a place of death isn’t the way I would have introduced you into my world, but it is twisted after all._

_\- Petyr Baelish._

Sansa grinned in excitement, not at the fact she was attending a funeral. Well actually, yes because she was attending a funeral, but was a masquerade ball. The little girl inside her gleefully squealed recalling the tales of fancy balls with flowing, light dresses, a valiant knight escorting you there, dances with handsome princes. But this was no fairytale ball, and Petyr was not her valiant knight. She opened the package to find a beautiful dark green dress. She grabbed the box and ran up stairs, desperate to try on the gorgeous gift. Sansa pulled the dress on, having difficulty zipping it up at the back because it was such an awkward place but eventually it zipped up and she stood in front of her mirror, gasping at how it looked. The base colour of the dress was a dark green which was covered in finely detailed, hand stitched branches. The branches grew up like roots from her feet to her collarbone. The dress had a very thin, fair toned material which reached her neck and was fit along her arms to her wrists. The branches were stitched upon the material, giving the effect of branches and roots growing up her chest and down her arms. The dress hugged the upper half of her figure and flowed outwards at her hips. The package contained also a small pair of black heels and a mask which would rest over her eyes and the bridge of her nose. The mask had the same branch effect to match her gorgeous dress. Her hair looked vibrant and luminous as it contrasted against her dark green dress. Sansa wondered how Petyr had found a dress that fit to so much perfection, They had told one another each other's shoe size in a texting conversation, so Sansa didn’t question the shoes. She was a size six, and he was an eight. Sansa stripped herself of her beautiful garments, checking the time. **2:19pm**.

Sansa decided to go for a shower, excitement still bubbling in her stomach. Hot water flowed over her hair so silken and soft. She lathered her body with soaps and oils which smelt of zingy, sweet lemons. She brushed a wash through her hair with her hands, feeling it become smoother. When she was finished she got dried, pulled on a old t-shirt, leggings and wrapped her hair in a towel.

She heated soup she had made yesterday and attempted to eat it but the butterflies in her stomach made her feel a little nauseous, so she only ate half and picked at a slice of buttered bread. She desperately wanted to text Petyr her excitement, but she wanted to be mature around him. A thought reached her mind about the funeral. Francis owned the best, most loved bar in London. People from all over the world honored to have visited The Westerling so there will probably be very important, rich people like Petyr there. Excitement that bubbled in her stomach quickly turned to nervousness. She had come from a wealthy family but they didn’t live in luxury, In fact, a lot of the money that came from from her Father’s founded company would be poured back into it. They lived in no mansion, they attended no private school, they lived a happy and comfortable life. Sansa felt like perhaps Petyr was taking her merely to laugh at how common she was with his rich friends while they gorged themselves on caviar and a fountain of champagne. She quickly shook the thought out her head, she didn’t fully trust Petyr but he wouldn’t do something like that, he had said that he doesn’t truly have friends. Plus, The dress he had given her made her look like she was made of money. She sat around for a while, letting the towel around her head soak up most of the water in her hair. Time moved faster than she realised, so she applied her makeup which was a light smokey shadow around her eyes, eyeliner, concealer to hide any blemishes and a bright red lipstick. She also painted her nails the same shade of red as her lips. Sansa dried her hair, which smelt fresh and shined as she brushed it. It was mostly straight so she added some curls which winded down and stopped just past her ribs. She smiled at her reflection, her cheekbones could cut glass. She checked her phone and the time had flown by, It was **5:53pm**.

“Shit” Sansa jumped up, stripping of her clothes and pulling on the dress, slipping her feet into the heels and grabbing her mask before she heard knocks at her front door.

“Shit shit _shit_ ” Sansa whispered stumbling down stairs, attempting to pull up the zip at her back but trying to be careful to not break it. She stood in front of the door, her body distorted and panicked with effort of trying to pull up the zip. More knocks came to the door and Sansa gave up, the zip not even half way up her back. She opened the door and a iconic smirk came the man in front of her. Sansa had to admit that he looked quite gorgeous. He was wearing a three piece which was the same shade of green as her dress. His shirt was white and it carried the same hand stitched branch design and a simple black tie. He also wore a small silver mockingbird brooch on his blazer. His face was clean shaved apart from his usual facial hair, his hair was perfectly parted and brushed to the side with only a piece of hair which had accidentally fallen from it's brushed state, instead sat curled slightly at the side of his eyebrow. He looked much younger than he was, maybe it was the lighting, Sansa thought to herself.

His eyes, those all seeing, all knowing eyes. They covered every inch of her, that burning sensation met her skin like before, yet she left a strange fire like feeling bubbling in her stomach as he studied her like she was his prey.

“You look wonderful Sansa” He said, his eyes looked darker than usual. Her face grew crimson and she shyly smiled at him.

“As do you, I didn’t realise we’d be matching.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, not at all, I think you look very handsome and I love this dress, Thank you.”

“I guessed your size, I think it might be a little bit too big on you.”

“Well actually” Sansa excused “I’m struggling to do the zip at the back.”

“Here, I’ll do it.”

Sansa stepped back into her apartment as Petyr stepped in, closing the door slightly behind him. She turned around, her bare back completely visible to him. He took the hair that lay at the back and brushed it to the front with his hands, which drew along her neck as it did so. She felt his hand fall down to hold her lower back, his thumb held the bottom of the zipper as the other hand took the small metal tab, and agonizingly slowly pulled it towards her neck. It was zipped to the top but they both stood there quietly, his hand had slid from her lower back and was resting on her hip. She could feel his breath flutter over her neck, it felt like his mouth was close. He smelt so good too, he was wearing cologne from the first time they met. Sansa closed her eyes, expecting his lips to meet her shoulder.

“That’s it zipped up” His voice whispered behind her. Sansa opened her eyes again. Was she disappointed? No, no way, it was just in the moment she wanted him to meet her with a kiss Sansa told herself.

“Thank you” she said, her throat dry.

She turned around to see Petyr’s eyes so dark, she could barely see his usually mischievous green glow. The dark in his eyes only lasted a second as they flickered and latched onto her again, the usual green-grey returned in seconds. He turned slightly to reach for the door before stopping and looking back up at Sansa.

“Ah, before I forget.” He reached into a pocket on the inside of his blazer, and pulled out a silver mockingbird brooch which was identical to the one he was wearing. He stepped close to her, his hand slid under the material at her neck to create space at her collarbone. He carefully pinned on the brooch, making it look like the little bird was sitting on one of her branches. She smiled at the little bird and looked up at Petyr.

“Now we’re matching.” He half smiled at her. “Shall we?”

“Yes” Sansa responded stepping out the apartment with Petyr. “Lets.”

 

* * *

 

The car ride to the destination wasn’t long, but it felt like forever in the present silence that sat between them. Sansa thought back about the zip. Had she really _wanted_ him to kiss her? She guiltily felt a pang of disappointment when he didn’t, but it was silly and inappropriate. She hadn’t known him very long, or that much but there was something so magnetic about him, it almost excused the sudden wave of wanting that washed over her. Even though it was silent, she enjoyed being in his presence. The sudden wave was gone but she couldn’t help but think about. What would she have done if he actually kissed her. She wondered what his teeth would have felt like on her skin, would he have tasted the lemon on her? Would he have unzipped her dress again to kiss her more? Would he have been gentle, or leave marks of lust on her pale skin? Sansa quickly shook all the childish thoughts and questions from her head, opening the window to breath the colder air, wash out all the thoughts she had in her mind and to cool that feeling of fire that grew in her loins when she thought about them.

“Petyr.”

“Yes?”

“This brooch” She began “It isn't promoting your brothel, is it?”

It was the first time they had talked about his brothel in person.

“No, The Mockingbird is the logo for me, I am the Mockingbird. But it shares it’s name with my brothel, When people see me, they think of me before they think about my brothel, if they are even aware it exists.”

“So what is it supposed to indicate when on me?”

“That you're with me.”

“With you? So, I’m yours?” The words sounded more strange and teasing than they did in Sansa’s head.

“With me, as in we are a team. ” Sansa smiled at his words, he liked his explanation more than hers. She felt embarrassment grow red in her cheeks.

“I’m more than a brothel owner, I’m a finance advisor to some of the more richer families - So people might believe you're my family, or my protege.” He explained further.

“I like that” Sansa replied “I’d like to be your protege.”

Petyr watched her quirk a smile as she thought about it from the side, his eyes switching from her to the road multiple times.

“I want people to know that you’re as important as them, as me - which you are. I don’t want people thinking you’re one of my brothel whores, because you’re not. You are my protege.”

Sansa’s smile beamed at him. The funeral wasn’t the introduction to his world anymore, the introduction was right here, when he said that there were tied as one, as a team. The experienced and the amateur. The mentor and his protege. _The gruesome twosome_.

 **  
** They finally reached a big mansion of a house, placing on their masks which were also matching. Every light on the outside and inside was on, making the place glow in the darkening afternoon. There were cars after cars, hundreds of people making their way into the house. Everyone was dressed beautifully, in foreign silks, covered in crystals of all colours, fancy masks covered their faces, gold jewelry weighted their arms and necks. Some men can canes with them, some had two beautiful women at their sides, some had three. Sansa and Petyr walked into a hall with a flowing number of growing guests. The hall was massive, there was room for easily about 500 people, the hall held a little under half that at the moment.  There was big, beautiful chandeliers that hung from the roof, covered in detailed and intricate golden and silver shapes and shimmering diamonds. The walls were decorated by painting and prints of famous artists. The place something just off royalty, and Sansa was drunk in it’s beauty. There was a small bar in the corner, it was nothing on The Westerling but the tables and seating were the same styled as though attempting to recreate the wonderful place within a great hall. Sansa saw some people look at her, studied her dress and figure with smiles and wonder. She felt like a princess, or a queen. She didn’t understand how people noticed her while being in such a wondrous and beautiful place, but she secretly enjoyed the attention all the same. **  
**

“Drink?” Petyr offered, a hand taking her back.

“Yes please, I’ll come with you.”

They made their way over to the bar in the corner to be greeted by a recognisable face.

“Mr Baelish! Miss Stark! It’s wonderful to see you both again, almost didn’t recognise you with the masks!” Alfred smiled at them.

“And you Al, I didn’t think you’d be working tonight, I thought you’d be a guest?” Petyr asked.

“No, no, I offered Mrs Edmyne, I’m very much honored to be assisting during Francis’ funeral, He was a great man.” Alfred smiled “What can I get you, everything is on the house.”

“Oh Frank, can’t even drag in the money in his own death. He would have been happy at you helping out Al”

Petyr turned to Sansa, asking her what she would like.

“Just whatever you're having” She answered.

“Alfred, could we have two glasses of the finest Arbor Gold, and save a glass for yourself.”

Alfred thanked him and poured two glasses of the dark red wine.

Petyr handed her a glass. It smelt strong but not as strong as the whiskey he had once given her. She took a sip, her lips tingling slightly. It was quite bitter at first but it left a sweet, warm taste in her mouth that she enjoyed. Taking a gulp, feeling the warmth flow into her chest.

“Don’t drink it too quickly” Petyr warned her “You don’t want to get drunk too early.”

She nodded but took another sneaky gulp and heard Petyr whisper so that only she could hear him.

“I can see you, y’know.”

Sansa gave him an innocent grin as he turned his head to see her properly, a smile slowly growing upon his face. The hall was becoming filled quickly with people, the sound of laughter and the strong smell of alcohol. Sansa was studying the crowd of people in front of her. Petyr leaned in close, his mouth just beside her ear.

“You see the woman in the crimson dress, long blonde hair, she’s wearing a mask shaped like a lion?” his breath was hot on her skin.

“Yes.”

“That’s Cersei Lannister, part of a very powerful family.. Although there’s a rumour that she has or had an incestuous relationship with her twin brother.”

“Urgh!” Sansa exclaimed, her eyes glued on to the woman that looked straight at her at her disgrace so she quickly looked away.

“Shh” Petyr whispered in her ear again, laughing at the growing pink tint on her cheeks.

A woman came along, dressed in a simple black dress and black mask, nothing fancy like the rest of the guests.

“Petyr?” she asked, and Petyr spun to meet the woman.

“Ah Helanne, how are you?”

“I’m ok, I’m glad Francis isn’t in pain anymore, My sweet fool” She smiled sadly.

Sansa stood beside Petyr, sipping on her wine. The woman blinked at her and turned to Petyr again.

“I was actually hoping you would have brought.. Cameryn with you tonight.”

Sansa saw a smirk grow on his face from the side.

“I would have Helanne, But I’m afraid he is busy tonight but he sends his condolences and hopes you will visit him sometime soon” Helanne looked hurt but nodded.

“He’s a favourite, that boy, a sweetheart.” She smiled, her eyes turned gooey mentioning him.

“I must go, I need to go announce, have a great time.” She smiled widely at them both, and they watched her walk to the stage at the top of the room. Merely seconds later, the orchestra around her stopped at her voice filled the hall, as people began to quiet down.

“I want to thank each and everyone of you for being here tonight. My husband was a wonderful man, always put others before himself, even now, at his funeral he wishes all of you to not mourn, to not remember him as a dying man but as the man with the flowing alcohol and never-ending parties.” She smiled as the crowd chuckled. “He had such a big heart, full of so much love.. I guess his body couldn’t handle it.” Her voice cracked a little bit with genuine emotion.

That’s when Sansa saw it. Francis had his whores, and Helanne had hers, but in the end they loved each other. The marriage was cracked until the end but they never got divorced, they were both wealthy before they met, they already shared all their money with each other. Helanne didn't gain anything from his death, she lost her husband, she lost the father of her children. She lost someone she loved dearly. Sansa thought it was beautiful, She had always thought marriage was beautiful. To have someone there through the thick and thin, to stand beside them no matter what, even if it seemed broken and twisted, Sansa hoped to find someone like that someday.

“We will miss him dearly. The first song is dedicated to him, it was his favourite song, Nights In White Satin by The Moody Blues. All of you are welcome to greet the dancefloor - For Frank!” She finished  by raising her glass in toast, as did all her guests.

Petyr set down his glass of wine and turned to Sansa who slowly finished her glass.

“Care to dance?” He asked holding his hand out. He looked so mysterious with the mask on, she had to admit she quite liked it. She smiled, nodded and took his hand as they made their way to the floor.

Chimes of the song rung throughout the hall, as Sansa rested her hands on his strong broad shoulders, and his wrapped around her waist. It was a slow song, so no-one was hand in hand and turning underarm or anything, just holding on to one another. Petyr and Sansa swayed to the beat.

_‘Nights in white satin,_

_Never reaching the end,_

_Letters I've written,_

_Never meaning to send._

__

_Beauty I'd always missed_

_With these eyes before,_

_Just what the truth is_

_I can't say anymore._

__

_'Cause I love you,_

_Yes, I love you,_

_Oh, how, I love you’_

Warmth was radiating from his body, and Sansa soon found herself resting against him, her head sat comfortably on his shoulder, her arms circling his neck. She felt a little slow, perhaps tipsy. Maybe he was right about drinking the wine too fast. Of course he was right, but Sansa couldn’t help feel warm, comfortable and protected in his arms. She heard his voice, a barely audible whisper into her ear.

“You really do look wonderful, Sansa. You look so beautiful.”

Sansa felt herself smile against his shirt, breathing in his sweet scent.

Petyr was older, she knew that but her immaturity couldn’t help feel like this is what it would be like to dance with a prince, like in all the stories. She wasn’t sure how she felt about Petyr, but in this moment, right now - She was happy.

The song came to an end and Sansa pulled herself from her somewhat melted state, gazing at Petyr’s face. The creases in his cheeks grew deeper as he stared at her.

“Ah! Littlefinger!” A voice came from behind Sansa, she quickly turned round to see a small-ish man, in suit and half mask of white and gold. He was bald, his hands were clasped together and his mouth was quirked as his small eyes moved to Sansa.

“Spider.” Petyr replied blankly.

“Hey now, I’m no spider!”

“And I’m no ‘Littlefinger’, Varys.”

His eyes moved back to Petyr, his smile growing.

“Of course.”

He unclasped his hands and bent to Sansa slightly.

“May I have the next dance, Miss Stark.” She saw Petyr roll his eyes in the corner of her vision but he placed a hand on her back to reassure her that it was fine. Sansa smiled at Varys as she took his hand as she turned her head to Petyr.

“I’ll be at the bar, I’ll get us a another glass of Arbor”. Sansa nodded and began rocking hand in hand and hand on shoulder to the faster, more of a dancing beat with Varys.

“You look splendid Miss Stark, I didn’t realise you’d be here tonight”

“Well, Mr Baelish invited me along.” She smiled, slightly unsure of how he knew her name.

“Mr Baelish?” He questioned.

“Yes, He brought me here, bought me this beautiful dress” She looked down at her garment lovingly.

“Oh, yes it is gorgeous, I thought you would have attended with your Mother tonight.” He smiled back at her. Sansa’s stomach dropped for a second.

“ _My Mother?_ ”

“Yes, She’s here. Did you not know? She’s an old friend of Fran-”

Varys was interrupted by a cracking sound. Like a whip on leather, or a broken slat of wood. Sansa whipped her head around to see her Mother and a stumbling Petyr, his hand barely covering a cheek glowing red.

“ **How dare you! You evil little bastard.** ”

“ **You tried to ruin my life and now you ruin my daughter’s?** ”

Another slap came to his other cheek, Petyr tripped and fell on his knees looking up at Sansa. A small boy was kneeled on the ground at that moment, his face held marks of a sharp hit and his eyes carried a look of sadness which met her eyes, no longer ice cold or studious. Eyes screaming help me. She looked at her Mum, horrified.      

“ **Sansa, you're coming home _right now_.** ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter than usual I think.. I've almost finished my exams which means more time for this! Hope you enjoy - please be welcome to leave comments or kudos! 
> 
> did you like the 'gruesome twosome' slip-in? ;)


	6. young boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're no boy  
> you're a toy  
> I'll wind you up  
> and cut you open  
> I'll watch you fall  
> and let you die  
> he will walk  
> as will I

The masked man was a boy. The world slowed as she stared at the boy. His gray sides melted to brown, the creases that marked his face fell away and his skin was paler, even tiny freckles appeared over his nose. His eyes grew brighter than ever as though that hardened and dark exterior he had built around him had crumbled because of two hard hits and a string of words laced with poison and hatred.

* * *

The same bright eyes smiled at Cat’s, A childish grin of a young boy, his soft dimples marked his cheeks. The sun of the coastal town Riverrun shone bright, laying a warm tan upon their soft skin. Their hair would draw lighter ever so slightly in the sun’s gazing shine.

“We will go to the dance together, won’t we Cat?”

“Yes, ok.. As long as I’m your princess.”

“You will always be my princess Catelyn.”

They were mere children but their cheeks flushed crimson as their soft lips touched for a second before running into the fields, giggling and playing.

* * *

“Truth or Dare” Edmure asked Petyr, although younger, looked down slightly at him.

“Dare” he grinned back, rubbing his hands together.

“Close your eyes.” Edmund smirked “And one of the girls will kiss you for 30 seconds.”

His eyes shot to Catelyn for only a second, a sweet smile was growing on her face. It had been several years since their first soft peck yet Petyr thought about it every single day. He heard quiet whispering and giggles and then suddenly lips met his, but they were not soft and sugary how he remembered. They were coarse and pushy, pushing into each other so much that their teeth clinked together several times, he tried to pull away but a hand held the back of his head, stopping him. He felt a thick, slimy tongue attempt to push through his lips before Edmure stated loudly.

“30 seconds up! Gross!”

Petyr’s eyes shot open to find a very pleased looking Lysa pulling away from his face. He held back a grimace and subtly wiped away the salty taste her tongue left behind on his lips with the back of his sleeve.

He looked at Cat, hiding his sadness. He watched her kiss the tip of her little finger and then placing her finger to his lips. He forgot about Lysa completely, only focused on his Cat.

* * *

Petyr tended to struggle to sleep during a storm. He could hear the waves crashing as he watched the rain batter against his window. He felt a soft breeze against his bare back and he slowly looked around to see Catelyn standing in merely a long shirt and a pair of underwear. Her hair was shining brightly in the light of the moon, it was ruffled and kinked from the plaits she had wore earlier that day. Her eyes were warm and soft as he felt his chest tighten as she walked closer to his bed, staring down at him. Petyr quickly shuffled over and pulled back the duvet inviting her in. She quickly slid in, grinning at the fourteen year old boy beside her.

“Are you okay?” He breathed quickly, the waves still crashing loudly in the distance.

“Yes.” She replied blankly, her eyes switching from his left to right quickly.

She sat up, as did Petyr with her but she gently pushed him back down, his head sinking into the pillow but his eyes never leaving hers.

She pulled the corners of the duvet to her neck like a cape wrapped around her shoulder exposed Petyr’s slim figure, the sloping of his ribcage, sharpness of his collarbone and his only garment of boxers. Catelyn slid her leg over his stomach, straddling him. Petyr felt light-headed, unsure of what was about to happen but taking all his effort not to let himself be drawn into desire but it seems a part of him was already succumbing to it. He flushed a deep red as Catelyn noticed the hardness that grew underneath her and simply smiled. His breaths grew heavy as she pushed herself against him, moving back and forth ever so slowly. She leant down and hovered only millimetres above his lips, her breath rippling across his face. He grew impatient, his heart ached for her taste, for her warmth, for her. He pushed up and met her lips to which he felt a smile grow from her. He let himself be engulfed by her, ecstasy filling his body which made him feel like he was on fire and flying at the same time, and everywhere that their skin met felt cold and almost painful but he loved every moment. Her hand, cold like ice slid down his torso and slid over his boxers, feeling how hard he was. He gasped and moaned to which a hand slapped over his mouth and Cat giggled.

“Sh..” She said very quietly in his ear as her hand moved him in circles. She quickly grew bored and wandered back up in torso and back down again but letting her hand slip under his boxers, feeling him properly now. He probably would have finished right there but he couldn’t let this end, he never wanted this to end. She felt him pulsing and stiff in her hand, she started to pull and push her hand up and down, hearing his quietened moans and gasps. She began going quicker and quicker and he suddenly felt light-headed as the blood rushed from the top to the bottom. She twisted slowly, tugged quickly, she paid attention to only the tip to the point the Petyr couldn’t hold himself any longer. He let about a low moan and shook for a second, before grinning at Catelyn, leaning close to her for a kiss. She looked at him blankly, climbing off him, slipping off his bed and walking out his room. Not a word spoken, or even a look back before she left. Petyr lay, bewildered at her sudden disappearance, the ecstasy drained from him quickly leaving him immensely tired. He fell asleep seconds later, before the thought of going after her had reached his head.

These encounters happened only five more times over a course of two years. Petyr would hold her hand afterwards, begging her not to leave but like every time, she seemed suddenly uncaring and left him. However Petyr remained a virgin over these long two years, as Cat only played with him. He was desperate to touch her, to give her the intense pleasure that he received from her. She only let him touch her once, his hands fumbling around unlike hers had. She placed her own hand over his, guiding him on what to do and where to go. She kept her eyes shut the whole time, which Petyr was slightly disappointed to see. He wanted to see her blue eyes dance and sing with pleasure. But he never did. The last time, the fifth time she had come to see him was when they were both sixteen. Cat had recently befriended a couple of brothers from a cold town in Scotland, they had been staying in Riverrun over the holidays. Petyr could see the way she looked at the eldest brother, Brandon. He was a year older than them, almost two years older than Petyr in fact. He was tall and muscular with dark hair and a handsome face. Petyr grew jealous but soon forgot about the Stark boy as Catelyn bit at his neck, rubbing him gently. He was close, but he drew the strength to flip her over so that Catelyn was laying on the bed, and he was hovering over her.

“Petyr!” She quietly snapped, with no smirk or giggle.

He leaned in close and felt her turn her head slightly so that he kissed the side of her mouth. He let his hands move her head so that she stare right at him. Her bright eyes bubbled with annoyance, her brows furrowed slightly and her chest heaved for a couple of seconds. He wanted to kiss her so much it hurt, a pain that ached through his body from his rib cage. He wanted to kiss, to taste every inch of her soft skin, he wanted her to moan his name. He wanted to leave marks of deep purple upon her collarbone, he wanted to fall asleep in her soft hair. He wanted her so much. He loved her so much.

“I love you, Cat.” He whispered, feeling tears grow hot in his eyes.

“I’ve loved you since I was a young boy.”

In Petyr’s perfect world, she would have thrown her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. She would have told him she loved him too, they would have made love for the first time but as though it was their last. They would have vowed to marry each other, they would plan to have children and everything would be perfect. But this was not a perfect world of a mere boy who was soon to learn it. A look of almost horror flashed over her face, she pushed him off her and scrambled from his bed, stumbling and falling as her tore herself from his sheets. She pulled her shirt from the mass of sheets, and quickly hid herself.

“You can’t be serious Petyr.”

The perfect world crumbled around him, but his hot tears did not fall from his greying green eyes, he refused to let them.

She shook her head in disgust and walked out of his room. Petyr wiped at his wet eyes, He had let himself be used and he had fallen like a victim of love does. Catelyn didn’t talk to him for a couple of days but after a while, things began to resume as normal. But she never came to his room at night again.

Several months on, Catelyn lost the interest of Petyr and her sister’s company. She would invite the Stark siblings up to stay, walking alone with Brandon most of the time. Discussing with Eddard and Benjen, and giggling with their sister Lyanna. Petyr and Lysa felt very much replaced, but Lysa soon forgot about the selfishness of her sister, Her eyes forever lurking upon Petyr. But Petyr couldn’t forget like Lysa could. Every night his mind would think about her soft hair, her pink lips, her sweet skin. He would sometimes hope she would come and visit him at night like she used to, even it was to use him and break his heart further. But Catelyn showed great interest in Brandon, as Brandon did for Cat.

The Tully's held a party celebrating another year of exams was over. Lysa kept following Petyr like a puppy, in some cases attempting to hold his hand but Petyr would find a way to pull his hands from hers and lose her in the large crowd of classmates around him. He didn’t touch the drink, it didn’t appeal to him. He just wanted to find Catelyn, he didn’t know what he was going to do or say once he had found her but he just had to.

The door to her parents room was closed. Petyr placed his ear to it and listened for several seconds, hearing nothing before knocking and peeking in. Catelyn sat in front of the fireplace, the fire glowing amber of her face, a cup of toxic smelling contents in her hand to which we was gulping down eagerly. She didn’t notice him walk in, or even sit down next to her in front of the fire. He watched her head roll a little with tipsiness, gazing into the fire. He placed his hand on her thigh and she took it into hers, a drunken grin on her face as she turned to him.

“I really do love you Cat.” He whispered.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

She giggled and unexpectedly dived into his mouth, her tongue squirming around leaving the strong alcoholic taste in his mouth.

She pulled back and pulled at the top button of his shirt.

“I want you, Brandon.”

Petyr grabbed her hands and pushed her away quickly, scrambling to his feet to see his Cat in a pool of drunken state, pulling at his trousers.

He walked out the room unsure whether he was angry or upset, he cracked open of bottle of vodka he seen lying and took several gulps, enjoying the burning feeling it felt inside him. He swigged his vodka continuously through the spinning night, unsure of when Lysa was suddenly latched to his side again. He soon finished the bottle and hands handed him more cups of now tasteless liquid to which he downed without thought. His bleary and fogged mind and sight was unsure what was happening most of the time. It was until he felt grit in his teeth from the last drink he his mind jolted slightly, but he met a dim darkness before he could fully question it.

When he woke up, he was still incredibly drunk but it had been awhile since his last drink, his mouth was dry and tasted sour. But a new taste met his mouth, it was more pleasant than sour but the unidentifiable, nostalgic taste of saltiness wasn't too pleasant either. His eyes flickered open to see wavy red hair and suddenly his whole body relaxed.

‘Cat’.

He kissed back deeply into her lips, holding her head close to his. His kisses would lose strength as he fell in and out of consciousness. She seemed rougher than he remembered. Her hand wouldn’t slide down his torso to feel him, instead a sharp, claw like hand grabbed him tightly and Petyr realised he wasn’t wearing any clothes. She tugged him which was slightly painful but he grew hard all the same. It was sudden, very unlike Cat’s previous actions but he felt a hot, wet muscle slide down him and tighten and he could hear moans in what felt like a distance and she bounced up and down on him. He moaned into her mouth as she captured him again. She began going faster and faster, moaning louder and louder and came quickly, and before him when Petyr was hardly close, her heavy body collapsing onto his. She finished him off which took about ten more minutes.

“Cat, I need you Catelyn..” He sighed deeply before falling unconscious again.

It was weeks later. Catelyn just looked at him normally, he wanted to talk about what happened with her but could never get a moment alone without Lysa butting in somehow. He decided to leave it but he brought up the last school dance at dinner.

“Cat? Have you got everything sorted for the dance?” He asked, smiling.

“Well, I need to tie a couple of loose ends up, who are you going with?” Cat replied.

Petyr paused for a second, watching her.

“I’m going with.. you?”

“What?”

“We agreed when we were younger?” Petyr pointed out but Catelyn shook her head.

“We were like, six? I’m going with Brandon.. you didn’t actually think-” Cat could see it in his eyes, and didn’t bother asking further.

Petyr stood up from the table and stormed off outside, which was raining heavily but he didn’t care. He kept walking forward, unsure of where he was heading. He was walking over the hill that he and Cat used to play on before hearing a shout behind him.

“Hey, Littlefinger!” A strong voice shouted through the rain.

Petyr turned around to see Brandon, standing soaking like him.

“Is it true?” He asked, with a hint of anger.

“What?”

“You touched Cat.”

Petyr’s mind raced to the blurry memories of the night of the party.

“It was the night of the party, we planned that night to have each other before she started crying that you had touched her.” Brandon called out again.

Petyr looked at him bewildered.

“She said that you had thankfully not taken her virginity, but you touched her and you made her touch you repeatedly.”

Petyr grew angry at the lies that spouted from apparently Catelyn’s mouth.

“ _I love her_ ” He shouted back at him.

“ _I would never make her do anything ever_ ” Petyr almost roared at him.

“Whether you love her or not, She’s mine. I had her first and she had me.”

Petyr’s mind was racing. The blurry, drunken sex her remembered was his first time too, and he was so sure it was Catelyn.

“I didn’t do fuck all to her, she used me, I fucking let her because I loved her. And you, you stole her from me. She was supposed to be mine, supposed to my partner to the last dance. I promised her she would be my princess.” Petyr screamed, giving everything he had.

He walked up to Brandon, who was a good six inches taller and her and swung an angry fist in his direction. Brandon caught his arm and punched him right on the nose, which burse on first hit. He kept aiming hits are the taller boy who avoided them and continuously beat him up to the point of immense bleeding and bruising but Petyr refused to give up.

Brandon picked up a empty bottle from the ground, smashing the bottom and holding it close to Petyr who refused to move.

“You’re a kid, she hardly likes you nevermind love you. Grow up.”

Petyr ran at Brandon but felt a cold trail from his collarbone to his navel which quickly turned hot. He hardly felt it really, he felt trickles of tears mix with his bloody face more that the deep cut. He held his chest, his hands glowing crimson with his own blood. His legs shook as he stood up, breathing heavy and blood dripping.

“You won’t give up, will you?” He asked, with mere scratches on him.

Petyr shook his head, then noticing a figure running towards them as Brandon stood forward, holding the bottle to Petyr’s throat.

“Brandon _NO!_ ”  Catelyn screamed from behind him.

“Please, he is like a brother to me.” Catelyn shook.

Brandon pressed the bottle to his neck slightly, staring at him before releasing him and dropping the bottle, to which Catelyn ran to Brandon and hugged him hard before letting her eyes flicker to Petyr, and walking away from him. Petyr fell to the ground, cold. He was sent away and he never talked to Catelyn ever again.

  
_Until now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY THIS IS SO LATE  
> Tried out a little young petyr perspective - Hope you enjoy!


	7. make me or break me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chancer chancer  
> kill the dancer  
> look how he prances so bad  
> kill for you?  
> i'll kill for two  
> oh you would be so glad

They were all suddenly outside, round the back of the great mansion where they wouldn't disturb the memorial party. The stood almost in a triangle shape, all equally the same distance from each other. Sansa saw her Mother, Catelyn to her left. The memories of laughter and happy family moments, rows and tears yet she knew living in London was her dream, and she wanted to snatch it away from her. Sansa looked right and saw Petyr. He was warm and funny, he was growing to be kind and he was ever so gentle but he was also selfish, mischievous and distrustful. It was as though she saw a physical argument happening it the space between them. Petyr said he was led on by her Mother, but she said he ruined her life.

"Sansa, you don't have to leave London, this is your life." Petyr said calmly.

"Sansa don't be stupid! I'm not letting you say here with - with him?!".

It was like there was an angel and a devil on each shoulder but Sansa hadn't figured out who was who yet. Her head moved from one to the other continuously and suddenly Sansa felt like a small child again as tears threatened to blur her vision. She didn't want to disobey her Mum, she loved her but she loved London. She loved this brand new life full Petyr had handed to her on a golden platter, it was once in a lifetime. A small tear rolled down her cheek and suddenly she felt hands holding her face. She looked up, expecting her Mother but instead saw Petyr. His thumb wiped away her stray tear and he whispered.

"This is your life, if you want to go with Cat, then that's your decision. But I will always be here if you need me."

A warm glow came from inside Sansa's chest as she smiled at Petyr.

"Get your hands off her!" Catelyn exclaimed, pulling Sansa from his clutches like a child with a toy.

Sansa pulled away from her Mum and looked for a second.

"Explain how he ruined your life?" Sansa asked "explain how he is going to ruin mine?" She continued.

Catelyn looked at Petyr.

"He got in a fight with your Uncle Brandon, my crush at the time."

"Fighting over what?"

"Me" Cat responded, curves quirked at the edges of her mouth for a slight second.

"So how did this ruin your life?"

"Brandon didn't talk to me for several weeks, and Petyr never even came to see me."

Petyr was getting more angry by the second

"Are you _fucking_ serious?" He said with a hot tongue.

"Darling Brandon wouldn't talk to you?" He said quietly "That _ruined_ your life?"

"Oh grow up, Petyr." Cat rolled her eyes.

He strode up to her fast, causing her to meet the wall behind her quickly.

"Grow up?" He said more calmly, his wall of darkness and intimidation grew bigger and stronger by the second.

"A boy didn't talk to you for fourteen odd days and that ruined your life?"

Catelyn stood with a straight face, flush with the wall behind her.

"Did you Mother die when you were an infant? Did your Father overdose himself of medication? Where you continually victimised by your foster family? Did you have to cope with a girl who would obsess over you, and another who would kiss you and tease you? Did you have to accept that this girl loved another? Were you drugged and raped by her sister? Were you then accused of touching the girl you loved, when it was always her that came on to you? Did you swallow your own blood and teeth? Did you feel the bottle glide through your skin from collarbone to navel? Did the girl you vowed to love forever leave you to bleed out and die in the pouring rain? Did the girl you loved since you were a boy forget about you as you lay in bed, almost dead?"

Sansa couldn't breath, looking at the man. The boy in front of her, she realised how she ended up so deep in his cracks. He had multiple, he was a broken boy. No matter how much he hid it, even if he did hide it very well. Petyr backed away from Catelyn slowly.

Catelyn's expression did not change. No sympathy, no apology.

"Brandon did what he did, it showed he was jealous of you."

"For what?"

"For being the first to touch me."

"You told him I touched you all the time, without consent?"

"To make him jealous."

"Did you think about me before you told him that? How he might possibility kill me?"

"No."

"Did you care?"

Catelyn remained silent.

Sansa never realised but she had floods of tears running down her cheeks.

"Mum, please tell me you're not serious?"

"Why do you care, Sansa?" Cat snapped at her.

Sansa stared at her Mother, a new feeling of resent building under her ribs, filling her lungs which were inhaling and exhaling quickly and deeply. She wiped away the stray tears.

“You told Brandon that Petyr touched you?” Sansa snapped back.

“He did.” Catelyn replied sourly.

“She told him I touched her all the time, without her consent. She told him I forced her to pleasure me.” Petyr cut in.

“And? Is it true?” Sansa suddenly snapped at Petyr, feeling like she was dealing with a bunch of teenagers.

“Yes.” “No.” Cat and Petyr replied in unison.

Sansa grew stressed.

“Stop acting like fucking children.” Sansa cursed.

“Sansa?!”

“Oh shut up, Mum.” Sansa sighed.

She walked up to Petyr, he was perhaps only centimetres taller than her, so their eyes met the same level.

“Are you lying to me?” She meant to say, but it came out in a whisper.

She watched his eyes move from her left to her right.

“No.” He said.

She spun and turned to her Mum.

“Are you lying to me?” She said in a louder voice this time.

“Oh Sansa, stop being so childish, you can’t solve this.” Her brows knotted together, trying to pull Sansa to her side.

“Are you fucking lying to me?” Sansa bit at her.

“Sansa you can’t tal-” Cat was cut off by a quick slap to her cheek.

“You are lying, you always avoid the question when you lie.” Sansa stared at her with eyes of stone. Catelyn stood, her hand holding her pink cheek with her mouth slightly agape at the actions of her daughter.

“I don’t care whether I lied or not, you are coming home with me.”

Sansa turned around with a look of utmost disgust.

“Mum.” She said in a low voice, looking directly at her.

“Why can’t I stay here? What’s so bad?”

Catelyn huffed, and stared at Petyr.

“Him.” She announced.

“What about him?” Sansa questioned, her eyes remained stone-like on her face.

“He’s.. he’s.”

“Not a dirty liar, like you?” Sansa finished her sentence.

“He seems to care about others, unlike you. He seems to listen, unlike you.” She continued.

“I sometimes thought you acted the way you did because you loved us, Mum.” She refused to break eye contact with her.

“But I think you act and acted that way because you are selfish.” Sansa stated.

“You won’t let me live my life, you constantly lie to Arya, you are impatient with Bran, you won’t listen to Rickon, you force so much on to Robb all the time and you have stated in the past that you don’t care about Jon.” Sansa gulped, but she wasn’t scared.

“From what I’ve seen of Petyr, I’d rather be with him than you.”

Catelyn let tears fall from her eyes, finally breaking the eye contact with her daughter.

“Mum, I love you but if you don’t appreciate these people, they will end up resenting you.” Sansa walked back inside and was greeted by smiles of the guests. She wove through the tipsy crowd and found herself back outside. Her mind was still racing, It felt like she still had a million things left to stay, and even then it wasn't enough.

She walked past the cars, and onto the road which was dark but it did not scare her. She didn’t have an idea of where she was headed besides the fact she didn’t want to be in the mansion, so she walked. She missed the warmth of the building though, the heat of the wine in her throat, the heaviness of Petyr’s arms around her. It was hard but she admitted to herself that she missed Petyr’s company suddenly. Even with only little knowledge of the man, talking to him and being around him made her feel whole. She never realised there was something missing, and when she thinks about it she doesn’t even know what it is but those eyes change something within her, even when they are steel-like and studious. She thought of her Mother, of her tears. Sansa wondered whether she was in the mindset to change and apologise. She wondered whether she was running flustered in the hall looking for her, sobbing her sorrows. It was as Sansa was thinking all the ways her Mother could be looking for her eldest missing daughter, stumbling along the dark, muddy sidewalk in her heels, a car pulls to the side behind her, about ten feet away. The cars headlights illuminated Sansa’s path in front of her, but she tread on refusing to look back. She desperately wanted to, to see Mother run to her and pull her into her arms, smothering her in apologies and kisses. She wanted to remain stonelike though, she would let her Mother yelp her name in sobs behind her. But they never came, instead a warm, heavy hand caught her shoulder pulling her around in a twirl and pulling her into their arms.

“Sansa, I thought I lost you.” Petyr breathed heavily. Shock filled Sansa’s head for a moment. This was supposed to be her Mum, she was supposed to holding her now. She was supposed to be the one to find her lost child. She could feel his pulse and heart beat fast in unison and she slid her arms around the lean man and held him tightly, her stone exterior crumbling. Her sobs into the crook of his neck and he held her tighter, his hand kept her back straight and flushed their bodies together. She breathed him in. He smelt like his sweet aftershave and a slight musk of sweat. He unlocked himself from her, as she did from him. His hands held her jaw on either side, wiping away the makeup that had leaked black down her cheeks.

“Did she notice?” Sansa whispered, stray tears still glided down her cheeks.

He looked at her, a hint of sadness glazed his eyes. He nodded.

“Did she care?” Her words jerked slightly with a gulp.

He stared at her, like it was the first time he had ever seen her again. His eyes would follow her face like he was reading a book.

“She went home.” He said under his breath.

“I was looking for you everywhere, before I left to drive the roads to find you, she said that if I found you, to tell you goodbye and good luck.”

Sansa wanted to cry more but the tears would not come.

“She said she still loves you.” He rubbed her shoulder soothingly.

Sansa felt sick with confliction and mood changes.

She shook her head, her upset dying in seconds.

“If she loved me, she’d be here holding me.” Sansa looked at Petyr and made her heart slow at her own words.

_Petyr was here, what did this mean?_

Sansa thought to herself.

She looked him straight in the eye. He was no longer the boy he was many years ago or the boy that was revived merely hours before. She would tell herself she didn’t know what she was doing but she knew perfectly well what she was doing, and she knew that something inside her told her she wanted it. She moved her head to the right and their lips touched. He was suddenly magnetic to her, and she moved closer gently pushing her lips deeper into his. At first his lips did nothing, they remained still but he couldn’t resist. Sansa found herself feeling drunk from the way he moved on her, catching her bottom lip with his tongue. He changed from left to right parting theirs lips for a second but the rush of cold air stung at her pink, swollen lips. The warmth of her mouth engulfed her again, it spread from her lips through her whole body. It tingled through her ribs, down her spine to the tips of her fingers and toes. Her hands slid up his body and knotted themselves in his peppered hair. They were like a jigsaw, the way they fit together as they held each other in the dark on the side of the road. The kiss lasted for only 30 seconds but it felt like forever and yet Sansa wanted it to last much longer. She not only discovered the space his company seemed to fill, but she discovered a hungry desire that grew inside her. They finally parted with a slight sigh. In those moments, looking at Petyr with a smirk and butterflies in her stomach, savouring the taste of mint he left she forgot about her Mother and her selfishness.

“I’ll drop you off home” He said, his voice smooth with heat.

She watched his sharp jaw tighten and his hardened eyes, pretended . She nodded, watching his every move back to his car, opening the door for her. She climbed in and watched him climb in after her. She realised that she shouldn’t have ever met the man who sat next to her. She promised herself to be careful around him. He pulled her in so easily, she realised that he had the power to make her, or _break her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit unsure about this chapter, I'm not going too fast am I?
> 
> always welcome to comments & kudos ;)


	8. rapture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh you vile and wicked man  
> how dare you kiss my hand  
> how dare you hold me against you  
> and kiss me until our lips are blue  
> how dare you leave me with a tremor  
> for I am forever colder without your  
> hot and metal-like skin to savour

Have you ever drunkenly kissed someone? Their mouth is cool from the cold alcohol the had downed a few seconds before they kissed you, but they would open their mouth too much and their tongue would dart in and out your mouth. You would pull away, too drunk to feel regret for kissing that certain person but being sober enough to realise that they are an awful kisser. That's what Sansa was trying her damnedest to turn that late kiss into in her head.

_Just a drunken, horrid kiss._

But she didn't feel that way at all. She couldn't help replay it in her head, favouring the warmth that buzzed from her lips and rippled over her skin like the ocean's tide. The way he tasted, the way he held her. Sansa had never experienced a feeling of what she could only call blissful awe from a kiss. It was quite the opposite of a horrid kiss. She again tried to convince herself it was the arbor gold, but she had only been slightly tipsy and she had definitely sobered up when confronting her Mother. The car was silent besides the low hum of the engine and their quiet breathing. Sansa looked at Petyr who was very much focused on the road, her eyes then moved to the car radio. Her outstretched her arm, turning it on. Chimes of a song gave Sansa sudden déjà vu, until she realised it was the first song that played at the funeral, Nights in White Satin. She felt her breath hitch slightly and her chest tighten at her remembered how she just melted in his strong arms. She was so comfortable and contented, she was in a new world but she wasn't scared because Petyr was there to protect her. Petyr was, but the other man wasn't. She remembered how Varys called Petyr by his childhood nickname, _Littlefinger_. Littlefinger was the other man, the masked man. The cold, selfish man. Grown from a boy of abuse and loss was Littlefinger, made to create chaos and havoc only for others. She looked at him again, whoever he was in these moments and she cursed herself for not being able to differentiate between Petyr and Littlefinger.

Sansa couldn't help study him, the rolls and creases in his shirt because of how he was sitting, the way his trousers were stretched slightly between his legs. Sansa looked away quickly into the darkness outside, realising she had been staring at his crotch for a full minute.

"Sansa." His low voice grumbled.

She never realised how much she missed the way he said her name until now.

"I need to leave for a while." He continued.

Sansa left her glances from the window, her head spinning to see Petyr.

“How long?” She turned slowly, her eyebrows lowered as she did.

"A long while, hopefully." He replied simply. Sansa realised that there were now very close to her apartment but suddenly home was last thing she wanted right now.

"Why?" Sansa found almost sadness in her tone of voice.

"Because I know if I stay I'll hurt you" Petyr said softly, looking at her his eyes dark and mischievous. "And only do the gods know how much I want to hurt you."

"I didn't know you were the kind of man to raise a hand to a another." Sansa replied.

"I would never raise my hand to anyone, especially you Sansa."

"Then how can you hurt me? I thought I was here to help you?"

He slowed the car until it stopped. Sansa looked around realising they were outside her home.

"Petyr please." She whispered, her hand holding his forearm.

"I'll end up using you, I'll end up draining all the goodness from you and then.. If you live up to my expectations, I'll never be able to let you go but if you don't I'll leave you to bleed out on the street because that's all I know, Sansa. Either keep it close or let it die."

"I'll go back home, to Scotland." Sansa replied.

"No, I can't let you do that. You fought for living in London." Petyr rubbed his temples, as though trying to rub away the stress.

"See, you aren't selfish. You're stupid for thinking about leaving." Sansa whispered.

Petyr ignored her and got out his car. Sansa quickly unbuckled her seatbelt and exited the car after him. He leant against the nose of his car, staring out into the dark street.

"Don't leave me" Sansa said quietly at his side. Petyr turned quickly, catching her jaw in his hand like a claw. Sansa gasped at the sudden movement, feeling her heart racing as eyes so dark, they looked like hollow holes.

"Why?" he growled in her ear.

His lips were so close to hers, Sansa’s eyelids lowered slightly, she could almost hear a ring in her ears which sang in unison to her heartbeat.

_kiss. me. kiss. me._

She let out a low and quick moan, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to rid herself of her impure thoughts.

“Because I’m selfish one.” She confessed.

“I want to be part of this world, let me be part of it.”

Sansa slowly drew her hand up, and gripped his jaw tightly, copying his pose but  making sure her nails were digging into his skin. He flinched but only slightly.

“You won’t use me, you won’t drain anything from me. You don’t decide what you do with me. I do.”

She felt heat bubble angrily in her cheeks.

“I choose what I want, and I choose to be your protege, I choose to be in your world. And if you leave, I’ll find you. If you refuse to let me be your protege, to be in your world, then I’ll dig myself in. Even if I tear my fingernails off, if my skin is raw and bloody. I’ll be there, on the other side of the room or beside you, that’s where you choose.” Sansa hissed in his ear letting her nails go deeper, deep enough to draw blood.

Petyr’s hollowed eyes smiled at her, his hungry eyes devoured her bittersweet words. His hand loosened on her jaw and fell to his side but Sansa remained holding him in her hand, holding a feeling of power over him. She pulled his face so painfully close to hers, letting her eyes bore into his before she felt his lips meet hers with a force which softer than she expected. Remembering the hold she had on him, she let go, feeling him deepen the kiss with so much more force she almost stumbled back until his hand caught her back, pulling her close to him. Petyr stole her limelight of power by reducing her to a hungry, shaking mess, pulling back for her to push forward, she felt almost terrified of losing the buzz they created when they kissed. It was like she was desperate for him, even though she in those very moments had her arms wrapped around his neck and her lips melting into his like hot metal. Petyr turned them, so that Sansa was gently leaning against the hood of his car. He pushed her further, so that her bottom hit the hood and a her hand flew back to catch herself from falling onto the car. He kept pushing her, his knee resting between her two legs, her supporting arm soon turned to a supporting elbow as he lowered her onto the car. He finally left her lips, leaving soft kisses from her mouth, trailing lightly down her jaw and onto her neck, where he kissed her deeply, leaving marks of purple. Sansa felt the pain of his teeth as he bit and kissed her neck, but enjoyed the new excitement and feeling of rapture. His knee pulled up and pushed slightly to where her thighs met. A low burning sensation grew in her loins as did jolts of somewhat pleasure as his knee rubbed against her. He kissed her softly upon her swollen lips before leaving her completely. Leaving her exposed and embarrassed as she lay a flushed and in some way corrupted mess upon the hood of his car. She slid of, turning a violent crimson.

“Sansa, sweetling.” He muttered carelessly.

“Just because we’re on the same team, doesn’t mean we can’t play our own games.”

Sansa couldn’t bear to look him in the eye, or at him at all. She kept her head down in.. _shame? embarrassment? anger?_ Sansa didn’t know but she could feel all three curdle the blood in her veins.

_Why am I so allured by this man? He is same age as my Mother? What was I thinking.._

_I must have looked so weak, I was a shaking wreck. Oh god._

_How can he just hold me, taste me, and devour me like that and then just leave me? Leave me to look like a fool._

He wordlessly climbed into his car and drove off, as though nothing had happened. Like nothing had happened at all.

* * *

 

Sansa couldn’t help feel somewhat bored in the next few days. With no messages from Petyr, time was wasted. Sansa would write miles and miles long to Petyr, it was be nonsense. It was relate to what happened the other night, how to pass through it, perhaps pretend it never happened or was this their game? It would be multiple questions and answers and suggestions and the odd stupid emoji, but Sansa would delete the message after an hour of writing it. It was just nonsense. She still had the Mockingbird pin he had given her. She played with it in her hands like a child, stare at it with the millions of questions that always seemed to vanish when she saw him. The millions of questions for herself would sink in there too.

_Do you trust him?_

_Or should I say, Do you trust Littlefinger?_

_Are you sure this is what you should be doing?_

_Perhaps you should know more about him?_

_Or is it the mysteriousness of him you are attracted to?_

_Wait, you are not attracted to Petyr. No, No.. no?_

Sansa would give herself sleepless nights, the questions ringing inside her skull, giving her aches of all kinds. It was like he was the cure to his own poison. When he was there, none of this seemed to bother Sansa, it would be there though. Sitting in the back of her mind but it didn’t hurt her like it did when he wasn’t there, it just didn’t matter. Sansa would go out to try to avoid the weight in her head, and sometimes with the hope she’d see him and it’d all dissolve away, even for a minute. She would sit in coffee shops, in bookstores, clothes stores and stroll through the supermarkets. She had even casually walked into The Westerling to say her hellos to Alfred, but all the time, craning her neck in all directions looking for him. She didn’t want him to know that she had been looking for him, that’s why messaging him or phoning him was off the cards. She wanted to be independent. This was her move in the game, and after his move, she craved to beat him. She went out at night, wondering around the bouncing club scenes.

“Excuse me?” She’d say to strangers.

“Do you know where The Mockingbird is?”.

All of the answers were headshakes and their apologies, until one man who was dressed in a very fine suit with other gentlemen dressed the same.

He gently gripped Sansa’s arm and led her away to speak to her in private.

“How do you know of this establishment?” He whispered.

“Surely you are too young to receive an acquaintance request? And I know we’re full for employees..”

“I’m a friend of the owner, Mr Baelish.”

The man’s eyes carried a sense of doubt.

Sansa pulled the Mockingbird Pin from her pocket, showing it to the man.

“See? I’d prefer if you didn’t mention this to Mr Baelish, it’s a surprise.” The look of doubt softened in his eyes, but trust did not fulfill its place.

“He isn’t the kind of man for surprises.” He replied.

“I know.” Sansa smiled back at the man.

“ _Now show me where to go_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry, i tried slowing it down, and it will (hopefully) but it's hard to stop a speed train!
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos, Thank you my lovelies!


	9. lethargic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> how do you get to know someone,  
> when they're never there,  
> you never hear their voice,  
> or touch their soft hair,  
> but soon as they arrive,  
> it's like they never left,  
> the games that you play,  
> are different now.

The man excused himself from his friends and gripped Sansa by the elbow again, leading her to The Mockingbird.

"Who are you anyway?" The man asked Sansa, a curious tone tied his words. Sansa looked at the man. He was obviously some kind of acquaintance of Petyr, which made Sansa trust him less, She remained silent.

"I could just ruin your surprise and phone him" he smirked at her silence.

"No, don't!" She replied quickly, letting her exterior of steel fall for a second.

"I'm Alayne" Sansa lied. "And you are?"

The man seemed to fall for her lie, or was either playing along.

"Olyvar." He stated as he lead them both along dark alleys, twisting right and left like a maze.

They remained silent until they reached a building of a dark grey. It was tall, about three floors high, the windows glowed a deep red, matching the colour of the big front door.

Olyvar walked forward, placing light knocks until a small gap appeared in the door, to which he whispered too quietly for Sansa to hear. The gap shut again and the sound of metal unlocking shot through the air.

A strong waft of incense hit Sansa. It was thick and musky, but not unpleasant. She walked into the building behind Olyvar, it was very dimly lit and she could hear soft moans coming from the unknown number of rooms in the mysterious building.

“Oh Olyvar, she must be paying a million golden dragons for you.” A woman laughed, who stood behind a bar. Sansa knotted her eyebrows and Olyvar laughed along.

“Oh, She’s not here for me, she’s here for Baelish.” He smirked. The woman’s eyes glided to meet her face with a smile. She had a slight gingery tint in sandy brown hair, sharp and beautiful features. She wore a red, tight fitting lingerie dress, pushing up her breasts and hugging her curved body.

“I’m only kidding, sweetie” She said gently “Although, It’s very unusual for a gorgeous young girl like you to be visiting upon a business request.”

“I’m a friend.” Sansa replied strongly, ignoring the kindness in the woman’s voice. The woman broke with a large smile and Olyvar let out a laugh.

“A friend? Baelish has no friends, he only has business associates, like Ros and I.” Olyvar replied with a quirked smile, gesturing to Ros.

“Could you please take me to wherever he is, please?” Sansa said, somewhat irritated.

“Hell if we know, Alayne.” Olyvar shrugged.

“He’s not here..?”

“He hasn’t been here in what, three days, I think.” The woman, Ros cut in.

“Is there somewhere I could wait?” Sansa suddenly felt anxious, she had only planned to walk in and surprise him with how she found him, how she clawed her way in.

“You’re best bet is just to go home” Olyvar admitted, but Ros shook her head.

“He’s never gone for longer than three days, You can wait downstairs if you like?”.

Sansa’s eyebrows knotted again and Ros sighed with a smile. “Watch the bar, Oly”.

She slipped her hand into Sansa’s and began leading her into a storage room, which she unlocked with a set of keys she suddenly pulled from under her lingerie. She lead her to a door to the right, which was also locked so again Ros pulled out her keys.

There was a flight of metal stairs swarming in darkness until a flickering light came on. Sansa walked forward but Ros didn’t walk with her.

“I’ve got to get back to work, I have a customer coming in five minutes. It’s just down there, it’s the only door and it’s open, just go in and make yourself at home, Alayne.”

Saying “Alayne” was a jolt of almost courage to Sansa. She didn't particularly want to go down by herself, but she had convinced people she had a different name, it was a small achievement but it was an achievement all the same. She wasn’t going to be scared, you can’t be scared when you’re playing a game. Sansa smiled at Ros and replied “I will!” as she started descending down the stairs. Like Ros had said, a single door sat directly opposite the last set of stairs and Sansa made her way over, clasping the door handle and pushing gently, she opened the door to multiple, dark but minimalistic open rooms. The floor was a dark rosewood and the main room she walked into had a black double bed which looked crisp and untouched, a soft black leather couch at the foot of the bed, a wardrobe holding shirts, t-shirts, jackets, suit jackets and trousers, the drawers below it held underwear and the one below that was stuffed with towels. The big room also had a bookcase against the wall and a cabinet in the corner filled with bottles of whiskey, red wines, rum and foreign spirits. Sat at the end of the room was a desk covering in letters and files, a laptop, an abundance of pens and a small glass bird ornament. The walls were white and bare, making the room feel massive and surrounding around her. A door to the left was a big bathroom with shiny black tiles, yet no personal shampoos or soaps, merely the small bottles you’d find in a hotel room. To the right was a kitchen, but there was hardly any dishes or cutlery, and the fridge was empty apart from a bottle of white wine.

Sansa sighed, studying the room around her. Her mind wondered to Petyr, as it had done so often recently. She couldn’t help think about the kiss, or should she say kisses, the buzz it creates through her body felt amazing, the pulse of her heart in her throat and the wanting that grew in her loins.

_He must feel something, he must do. The way he held her made her think he felt what she felt, but she didn’t fully trust him yet. He may still be trying to get his own back at my Mum._

She thought to herself, still carrying a sense of untrustworthy about him. She wanted to trust him, but she couldn’t.

She picked up a book from the bookcase and helped herself to his wine, pouring herself a medium sized glass. She glanced at the cover, The Art of War by Sun Tzu translated. She opened the book as she sipped on her glass of wine, sitting comfortably on his couch. As her eyes ate up the book’s words, she imagined Petyr reading it to her, she supposed he is quite the strategic player, in some games.

* * *

_Sun Tzu said the control of a large force is the same principle as the control of a few men, it is merely a question of dividing up their numbers._

_Fighting with a large army under your command is nowise different from fighting with a small one, it is merely a question of dividing instituting signs and signals._

_To ensure that your whole host may withstand the brunt of the enemy’s attack and remain unshaken, this is effected by maneuvers, direct and indirect._

_That the impact of your army may be like a grindstone dashed against an egg, this is effected by the science of weak points, and strong._

_In all fighting, the direct method may be used by joining in battle, but indirect methods will be needed in order to secure victory. Indirect tactics, efficiently applied are inexhaustible as heaven and earth, unending as the flow of rivers and streams. Like the sun and moon they end, but to begin anew, like the four seasons. They pass away, to return once more._

_There are not more than five musical notes yet the combination of these five give rise to more melodies than can ever be heard._

_There are not more than five primary colours. Blue, yellow, red, white and black, yet in combination they produce more hues than can ever be seen._

_There are not more than five cardinal tastes. Sour, acrid, salt, sweet, bitter._

_Yet combinations of them yield more flavours than can ever be tasted._

_In battle, there are not more than two methods of attack. The direct and the indirect._

_Yet these two in combination give rise to an endless series of maneuvers._

_The direct and indirect lead on to each other in turn, it is like moving in a circle, you never come to an end._

_Who can exhaust the possibilities of their combination?_

_The onset of troops is like the rush of a torrent which will even roll stones along in it’s in course._

_The quality of decision is like the well timed swoop of a falcon which enables it to strike and destroy its victim._

_Therefore, the good fighter will be terrible in its onset and terrible in its decision._

_Energy may be likened to the bending of the crossbow; decision, to the releasing of a trigger._

_Amid the turmoil and tumult of battle, there may be seeming disorder and yet no real disorder at all; amid confusion and chaos, your array may be without head or tail, yet it will be proof against defeat._

_Simulated disorder postulates perfect discipline, simulated fear postulates courage; simulated weakness postulates strength. Hiding order beneath the cloak of disorder is simply a question of subdivision; concealing courage under a show of timidity presupposes a fund of latent energy; masking strength with weakness is to be effected by tactical dispositions._

_Thus one who is skillful at keeping the enemy on the move maintains deceitful appearances, according to which the enemy will act. He sacrifices something, that the enemy may snatch at it._

_By holding out baits, he keeps him on the march; then with a body of picked men he lies in wait for him._

_The clever combatant looks to the effect of combined energy, and does not require too much from individuals. Hence his ability to pick out the right men and utilize combined energy._

_When he utilizes combined energy, his fighting men become as it were like unto rolling logs or stones. For it is the nature of a log or stone to remain motionless on level ground, and to move when on a slope; if four-cornered, to come to a standstill, but if round-shaped, to go rolling down._

_Thus the energy developed by good fighting men is as the momentum of a round stone rolled down a mountain thousands of feet in height. So much on the subject of energy._

* * *

Sansa finished her glass of wine and began rubbing at her eyes. She wasn’t truly tired but she did feel somewhat lethargic. She pulled out two fresh, soft towels from the drawer and made her way to the bathroom. She closed the door and locked it behind her. She slipped off her clothes and stepped inside the shower, turning it on and sighed at the sudden rush of hot water. She stood with her eyes closed, her hands flat against the cool tiles, letting the flow of hot water cleanse her body. She followed Ros’s instructions of ‘make yourself at home’ by helping herself to the bottles of shampoo. There was an assortment of different kinds, Sansa decided on the shampoo that smelt strongly of cherries and dark chocolate, and using the conditioner after of the same kind which made her hair feel like silk in her fingers. She couldn’t imagine Petyr using the shampoo, it seems too sweet for him, he did smell sweet but he had a peppery musk that Sansa enjoyed. She got out the shower.

Sansa began drying herself, wrapping the towel around her body and pulling on her underwear. She twisted her hair until most of the water had dripped out. She opened the door and placed her clothes on the sofa, and began rubbing her hair with the second towel. She walked over to his wardrobe, which sat opposite the door to get in. She pulled off the towel wrapped around her body, leaving her naked apart from her underwear. She rummaged through the assortment of clothes until she found a white shirt. She pulled it from the hook as she heard the door behind her open and she froze for a split second before spinning the shirt behind her and pulling her arms in and rolling the sleeves to above her wrists. There was silence as she stared straight forward, buttoning up her shirt. She slowly turned around and smiled, but no smile was returned. Only dark eyes, dark eyes filled with hunger and desire.

_  
“Hello Sansa. **”**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, firstly - sorry it's been a while (and i know i say that everytime but I've felt really blocked with this story at the moment), secondly - sorry this chapter is a bit shitty, thirdly - sorry the book excerpt is so big but it really is a lovely piece and Aidan Gillen (Petyr Baelish) actually narrated it, and it's beautiful (listen here: http://www.amazon.com/The-Art-of-War/dp/B00URW47O6 ) Thanks guys!


	10. bittersweet blue eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm lying im sorry  
> there's no need to worry  
> i wish you'd trust me  
> i'm not that liar  
> although i'd understand why  
> you'd think im her

We've all seen the documentary that focuses on a lion stalking a gazelle. The way it’s eyes focus on it’s prey, and it’s prey only. The lion will stealthily shadow it’s prey without being seen, pacing around it in circles until it finds the perfect position to attack. But sometimes the lion enjoys creating a game out of it, arising from the hidden growths, giving the gazelle a few seconds to run before chasing it down to meet it’s certain death. But this gazelle did not run, it merely stared at the lion, circle in a prowl around her. She, as does her predator, watches every move. Even in the human world, we have our predators and prey. Petyr is our predator, but Sansa refuses to be the prey. He was wearing a dishevelled suit, his usual musky scent was faint, instead a stronger scent of nostalgic whiskey met Sansa’s nose. She decided to ignore the feeling of danger oozing from him, walking over to him until her hands met his creased tie. She pulled the knot out and slipped it out from under his collar, dropping it on the floor. She felt his eyes draw slowly down her sodden curls of her darker than usual copper-like hair. Her hands slid under his suit jacket, persuading it to slip from her shoulders onto the floor. Her hands then reach for the top button of his shirt but he caught her by the wrists before she even reached his collar. He hungrily and silently stared at her as though she were a sugary temptation behind a glass case. He drove her backwards until a wall hit her back hard, making Sansa gasp for air as the force knocked the breath out of her. Petyr pinned her arms above her head on the wall. The fire grew in Sansa’s loins as she watched him, waiting to be devoured. He slowly let her arms go but they stayed there, still and stiff with anticipation. His gaze lowered from Sansa’s face, studying her figure through the somewhat translucent white shirt. His hands quickly unbuttoned the shirt, letting it hang open and letting himself savour more of her. Sansa felt dizzy, with a feeling she could not describe. She saw his hands enter the opened shirt and he stepped forward so that their bodies were almost flush. She felt his cool hands on her shoulder blades, and leisurely descend down her soft, pale back, where they rested until Sansa became aware of his eyes studying her with a yearning. Sansa grew sick of waiting and pressed forward into his lips and within seconds became submissive to him, following every movement and moaning softly into him each time he did. Their bodies finally flush and Sansa could feel his lust pressing against her and she smiled wickedly into his kiss. Her hands became curious, slowly undoing his belt and fly, slipping past his boxers and feeling his growing lust for her. She wanted to be scared but she wasn't, it was as though with each long kiss she had inhaled a toxin which made her more brave, more curious and more lusting. Her hand gripped him and Sansa looked up at Petyr’s face as she slowly pulled up and pushed down, watching his face emit the pleasure she was causing. Petyr’s breathing became heavy but his embrace and body were suddenly tense until he pushed her hand away and stepped back from Sansa.

“What’s wrong Petyr?” Sansa breathed with confusion.

“I can’t do this.” Petyr replied, his eyes suddenly bright again.

“Why?” Sansa almost moaned stepping towards him, and gently touching his arm.

He turned and looked at her, a smirk couldn’t help but break out on his face. Petyr walked opposite her again, his eyes never left Sansa’s as he started to button up his shirt she was wearing. His hands slid up her neck and sat on either side of her jaw, the tips of his fingers tangled in her still damp hair. The question ‘Why?’ was burning in between them still.

“Look at you.” Petyr actually smiled, a real smile at Sansa. Sansa couldn’t help but smile back as crimson tore across her face and her chest felt like it was going to concave.

“You’re a wild one, I’ll give you that.” Petyr continued. “You found my establishment, you come into my floor, you use my shower and you steal my shirt.” His smile softened to a smirk again.

“I told you I’d claw my way in.” Sansa replied softly.

“Yes, you did.” Petyr nodded

“Sansa, you want to claw your way into a life of money and dazzling drinks, not me.” His hands slid back down and gripped his shoulders.

“No Pety-”

“I’m not saying you’re trying to use me, I don’t get used. I’m saying that your aim should be what I’m offering you, yet you come here looking for me.”

Sansa swallowed hard. He was right, she could ask him for anything and everything yet what she had really been trying to have, was him.

“I am here for money and dazzling drinks.” Sansa lied.

“Oh?” Petyr saw straight through her blatant lie and Sansa knew it.

“Well, it seems you have no pockets to keep said money.” Petyr said, stepping back to look at her body as though to see if she had unknown pockets.

“And a glass of wine isn’t the most dazzling.” He continued, stepping closer again.

“You might be flipping this on me but you didn’t answer my question.” Sansa snapped, her cheeks tinted at how easy she was wrapped in his web.

“Why couldn’t you?” Sansa meant to say but it came out in barely a whisper. “Why couldn’t we-”

Sansa couldn’t say it. It was as though her throat cut off half way through the sentence and she suddenly felt so exposed again. She wasn’t admitting to the fact she wanted him but it felt like it. Sansa felt ashamed of herself, she barely knew the man except from that he was rich, has bad relations with her family and that took a tole on him.

“You're not using me” Sansa said more strongly his time. “You’re not using me if that’s what stopped you”.

Petyr looked at Sansa and smiled slightly.

“You’re so young.” He said simply and Sansa felt annoyed.

“I’m not a child, I know what I’m doing.” Sansa bit at him.

“No, you’re not a child and yes, you do know what you’re doing. But you don't know the ability and extent of what other can do to you.” Petyr continued “I wish I had known that when I was younger.” he sighed.

“You’re not an old man, Petyr.”

“You make me feel old.” he smirked.

“Oh, is that why you couldn-”

“No, Jesus christ, I’m not that old!” Petyr exclaimed, eyes widened.

“Then tell me!” Sansa exclaimed back in reply with a tone that caught Petyr’s attention more quickly.

“She was younger than you but you both look so similar, she would use me, play with me, taunt me, torment me through sexual pleasure.” Petyr looked at Sansa directly into her eyes.

“I was a boy, a young, stupid boy and I fell for every trick in the book, I fell for her. I wanted her with all my heart, instead it got slashed. It took me years to go on dates confidently, sex was scary for me but eventually I grew into this vile selfish creature she had planted in me as a boy. I didn’t want any strings attached, I just wanted good sex. I never wanted strings attached for anyone besides her. And then you came along. So young and fresh, exactly like the girl I had fallen for, exactly the girl I had promised myself to, exactly the girl my strings were attached to. But I am old and greying but I wanted to get to know you, because in another world where love comes before strength and duty, you might have been my daughter. But this isn’t that world and y’know what, I’m glad it isn’t. Holding you in my arms, kissing you with my lips is more pleasure any man could receive from any whore, so to take you right here, would be the only thing I’d want to do for the rest of my life, to give you pure bliss forever and watch those eyes sing it loud for me and me alone. But it was those exact eyes that stared at me coldly as litres blood left my body, I thought that gaze was going to be the last thing I see before I die and sometimes I wish I had because the memory of the hatred that sad within it makes me feel ill, because all I ever wanted was to make her eyes glow with happiness. I know I’m more powerful than you, Sansa. But I’ll give you this, the young boy inside me is scared of you. Scared you’ll use us, scared you’ll break us and scared you’ll leave us to die. And the terrible vile creature is scared too, scared we’ll do the same to you.”

Sansa stood watching and listening to him, her ribcage hurt hearing how appalling her Mother had been to him.

“It was take a while, won’t it?” Sansa asked.

“Yes.” Petyr nodded, his face blank.

“I’ll prove it, I’m not her. I’m not like her.”

Sansa felt her body become light as though she could float as her arms wrapped around his neck. She would admit it, it would help her somehow, to get what she really wanted.

“I want you.” Sansa whispered. “I’ll show you there’s nothing to be scared of, I’ll show you how much I want you.” Her lips sprinkled soft kisses on his jaw line.

“ ** _I promise._** ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been so so so so so so so stressed with exams, school, work blah blah so yeah i'm sorry/


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